


The Weight of the World

by HalcyonTraveler



Category: RWBY
Genre: Atlas Academy, Backstory, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Gen, Intrigue, Murder Mystery, OC, OC Villains, Political Campaigns, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalcyonTraveler/pseuds/HalcyonTraveler
Summary: When a member of the Atlas Council is brutally murdered in the city's streets, Winter Schnee must work with a freelance huntress to discover the culprit, while James Ironwood is faced with a specter of his past in the election to replace his former colleague. On the opposite side, Robyn Hill receives tutelage from the elderly Councilman of Mantle.(This story begins at approximately the same time as Volume 1 of RWBY)
Relationships: James Ironwood & Winter Schnee, Robyn Hill & James Ironwood
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. The Top of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna try to post a chapter every other week. We'll see how it goes but due to COVID I've got a lot of time.

## Chapter One

### The Top of the World

##### Winter

It was three in the morning, and the city of Atlas was alive. This in and of itself was not particularly unusual, but Winter had never known a night like this. On most nights, the residential districts were dark, and the usually busy traffic, both on the ground and in the air, was reduced to a few streams of light darting from place to place. Tonight was different; the entire city was lit up, the roads were jammed with traffic, and dozens of airships circled above Atlas Academy. Something was very wrong.

She had been woken an hour before by a frantic young huntsman who had informed her that General Ironwood had sent her an urgent summons. He hadn’t been very coherent, so Winter wasn’t entirely sure what she was needed for, but she was not one to question orders. Even so, as her airship pulled into the Academy’s docks, she couldn’t help but speculate what might have the city in such a state at this hour. 

Her first thought was that it was her father. As the president of the Schnee Dust Company, Jacques Schnee was the most influential man in Atlas besides the Council, so if he had done something drastic or, gods willing, died, then it would obviously affect everyone in the kingdom. Besides him, she could think of few events that would merit such a reaction. The alert sirens were silent, so it hadn’t been a grimm incursion or an attack by the White Fang.  
She cast aside her thoughts as the ship touched down. She would be speaking to the General soon enough, so there was no need for such wanton guesswork. 

As the ship’s boarding ramp lowered, Winter was reminded of how much she hated Atlesian summers. In the other seasons, the air was filled with crisp white snow which cleanly evaporated from the city’s heating grid once it hit the ground, but in the summer the heating was turned down to conserve the dust which powered the city, which meant that the constant rain pooled on the ground, covering it with dirty water. 

It would not do to meet General Ironwood with her clothes covered with grime and mud. She pulled an umbrella from a compartment by the ramp, and then closed her eyes. She focused on her aura, the energy field generated by her soul, and waved her hand in front of her, creating a path of shimmering white glyphs from the ramp to the Academy’s entrance.

As she stepped onto the path, she saw that, even in the rain, the docks were crowded with people. Students, soldiers, and even professors milled about, looking exhausted, confused, and even a little panicked. She overheard snippets of their conversations as she walked past, though she tried to pay no mind. 

“...But here, in Atlas?” 

“...One of the Academy’s best…” 

“It just shut down…” 

“...Some faunus…”

The inside of the Academy was, if anything, even more hektic. She had to push her way past throngs of students and bureaucrats in order to make it to General Ironwood’s office, and even there the waiting room was packed to the brim. 

The people waiting here weren’t just students and low-level members of the military either. She recognized Major Pontus, who commanded the Southern Defense Division, two Ace-Operatives, and even Councilman Ash Mateus milling about among the dozens of Special Operatives and commissioned officers. It took some shoving, but Winter made it past all of them to the front desk. 

She knew that this would be the greatest challenge of all. Charlotte Mallow, the General’s secretary, was four feet and eight inches of unrestrained fury. Though she was only six years older than Winter herself, even the most veteran officers had learned to fear her temper, which was even shorter than she was. Winter noticed that not everyone had learned quick enough, however. Major Pontus was assisting one of the youngest Special Operatives, Marrow Amin, in pulling out the staples which had bolted him to the wall. Winter had long suspected that the real reason the General kept Mallow around was as a deterrent, so that he would only be bothered with requests that were absolutely necessary and could not be given to someone lower down the chain of command. Winter decided that whatever had Atlas in such a state was worth the risk. 

“Special Operative Schnee, here on the General’s orders.”

Mallow peered suspiciously at her. “I.D.?” 

Winter knew better than to protest. She pulled out her scroll and showed her huntress’s license. “Is that all?” 

She realized immediately that what she said might be interpreted as a challenge, and hoped she wouldn’t regret it. Thankfully, Mallow seemed too exhausted to harass her further, and waved her through. Winter tried to hide her relief, as she knew first hand that showing weakness here would be a dangerous mistake. 

General Ironwood’s office was a large room, but it was starkly empty of furnishings save for the General’s desk and a large, circular table that was at present retracted into the floor. General Ironwood himself sat at the desk, his head in his hands. In front of him stood a tall, well-built man that she recognized as Clover Ebi, the captain of the Ace-Operatives. Standing to the side of the room were two others, a man and a woman, who Winter recognized as Special Operatives Nox Corwin and Magnolia Xanthe of the military’s Internal Affairs division.

Xanthe was a tall, broad shouldered woman with arms that looked like they could break a beowolf in half without much effort. Corwin, by contrast, was small and slight, his dark face an impassive mask. Winter had known them both since her time studying at Atlas Academy, and while she wouldn’t quite call them friends, they were good soldiers and honest people. 

The General looked up as Winter entered, and she could see that his eyes were red. “Schnee,” he said hoarsely, “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Sir,” she saluted, “I came as soon as I could. What is happening out there?” 

He sighed and gestured for the other two specialists to move aside so she could approach. “At approximately fifteen minutes past midnight, the unthinkable happened. Councilman Thaddeus Willows was murdered on the streets of Atlas.”

Winter was stunned. Never in Atlesian history had a sitting member of the Council been assassinated, certainly not in the middle of Atlas. “How… how is that possible?” 

“We are still unsure. A patrol discovered the bodies approximately ten minutes after the incident and we immediately sent the Ace-Ops in to investigate. Clover?” 

Clover Ebi typed something into his scroll, which projected a grisly image: two bodies lying in the street, both badly mutilated. The Councilman’s neck was a mess of blood, so badly damaged that Winter couldn’t even hazard a guess at the nature of the injury. One of his arms was missing as well; from the mess of a stump that had been left behind Winter assumed it had taken several cuts to remove it. The other body was in similar shape, with a long, ragged cut along the chest and a dozen small, neat incisions across the body. Winter had seen some awful things as a huntress, but this was brutal even by those standards. 

“This was what we found,” Clover said. “The other body was Councilman Willows’s bodyguard, Grayson Grahame. He was one of the best in his class at the Academy, and probably the best hired protection money could buy.” He pointed to the slash across the corpse. “He was killed with one blow, before he could even draw his weapon. The other wounds appear to have been dealt posthumously.” 

“It looks like the work of a maniac,” Winter said. “Some lone killer?” 

“No.” Xanthe shook her head and walked up to the desk. She gestured at the scroll. “Clover, may I?” 

“Go ahead.”

She made a few gestures and the hologram pulled back, showing the city blocks surrounding the scene of the crime. “Just before the attack, all the power went out in a five block radius around the scene. About a minute later, it returned. Utility Services has no idea how it went out, and hadn’t even had time to send someone to fix it. And to make things worse, at the exact same time of the blackout, six android patrols mysteriously altered their routes to avoid the location of the murder. This was planned meticulously,” she lowered her voice, “and I think one of our own is responsible.” 

General Ironwood nodded. “On that I concur. The simplest explanation is that someone inside the military aided or even orchestrated the killing. That’s why you’re here, Xanthe. I need you and Corwin to conduct a thorough investigation of anyone who could possibly have had authorization to change those patrol routes and I need it done without anyone suspecting anything.”

Winter cleared her throat. “Permission to speak, sir?”

“Granted.” 

“Why exactly am I here, sir?”

“Because I’m transferring the case to you. Besides the Ace-Ops and the other people in this room, you’re the only one I trust to investigate what happened to Tad.” Winter couldn’t help but note that he’d used Councilman Willows’ nickname. The two of them must have been closer than she’d realized. No wonder he’d seemed so shaken by all of this. She felt a little embarrassed, seeing her commanding officer in such a personal moment. 

“You said the Ace-Ops were conducting the investigation.”

“The Ace-Ops aren’t suited for this kind of work,” Clover explained. “Our talents are best suited for combat zones. Now that we’ve determined there’s no immediate armed threat, the General felt we should head back to the front lines.” 

Winter wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, the General wasn’t giving her an easy task. But on the other, he was trusting her with what might be the most important mission she’d ever undertake. It was a burden, yes, but an honor as well. “Thank you, sir. But I would advise against sending me alone.”

General Ironwood sighed. “Like I said, I don’t trust anyone else within the military to be in on this.” 

“Then what about outside the military? There must be freelance huntsmen and huntresses we can call upon.” 

He cupped his chin in his hand. “Did you have anyone in mind?” 

“I do, sir.” Winter knew she was going to regret it, but it was her best option. “Iris Moreau.” 

“The courier? You filed three separate complaints for ‘improper conduct’ when we paired you for the Talos mission.”

“She doesn’t have the most professional demeanor,” she admitted, “but she’s loyal and competent, and in spite of everything she saved my life twice at Talos. I trust her.” 

He nodded. “Then so do I. I’ll make the necessary call.” He looked over the assembled specialists. “You are all dismissed. Mallow will be in contact with each of you with further details on your assignments.” 

Winter wondered why Mallow was being afforded a level of trust that even the highest-ranking officers weren’t. She made a mental note to look into her background in the future, to make sure that trust wasn’t misplaced, but first she had to pray that hers wasn’t either.


	2. State of Emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the death of Councilman Willows, the Atlas Council is thrown into disarray. General Ironwood finds that he has to make a hard decision to keep his kingdom on-track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Atlas Council at this time (~Episodes 1-4 of Volume 1) is rather different than that which is shown in Volume 7. As the story progresses it will move closer to the one seen in the show proper.

## Chapter Two

### State of Emergency

##### James

By the time James finally emerged from his office the crowds had mostly dispersed; the only remaining signs of the throng were a few persistent bureaucrats and an assortment of stationary which had been hurled with impressive force into one wall. His secretary, Charlotte Mallow, was deadly with a three-hole punch. 

“Good morning Charlotte,” he greeted her. “Sorry for needing to bring you in so early.” 

She smirked. “Don’t apologize to me, General, I’m getting good overtime out of this.” 

“Did any of them have anything actually important for me?” 

“Most of them were just trying to get details on the Willows incident, but Polendina and Klakverk need you to sign off on some materials for whatever top secret project they’re working on, and Councilman Mateus wanted me to tell you he’s calling an emergency council meeting.”

James wasn’t surprised that Mateus would be so eager to get the Council back in session. That man always knew an opportunity when he saw one, and now for the first time in six years James’s party didn’t hold a three-fifths majority on the Council. Mateus saw numbers first and people second, which had served him well in his prior occupation as a Schnee Dust Company executive but made him an unpleasant colleague. 

“Put the paperwork on my desk,” he told her, “I’ll get to it once the business with the Council is sorted.” He turned to go.

“Er, sir?” 

James looked back. “Yes, Charlotte?” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Despite it all, he couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.” It meant a lot, coming from her. She may have been a bit prickly, but she was one of the few people in Atlas he considered a genuine friend, a number that as of today was one lower. 

James had known Tad Willows since his own years at Atlas Academy, when Tad was a Special Operative. James’s father had never been particularly present, so Tad had been something of a replacement in his life. He was a joyous man, always finding new sources of excitement, and even in the cold, harsh world of the Atlas military he’d always be there to brighten things with a joke and a smile. 

Tad had certainly been James’s only friend among the Council. Mateus was an ass, and while he respected Timur Lane, the elderly veteran was too withdrawn to form any meaningful connection with. His political duties were going to be a lot lonelier from here on in, that much was sure.

These thoughts kept swirling in his mind like a blizzard, casting such a haze that he hardly paid attention to the journey from the Academy to the Capitol Building. The next thing he knew, his car had pulled up in front of the Capitol’s great marble and steel facade. It was nothing compared to the Academy in terms of sheer size, but it was spectacular in its own way, covered in reliefs depicting the warriors of old Mantle from centuries past gazing austerely down at their kingdom. 

On the steps before the building waited a man who seemed to have stepped straight from the stone. Despite his great age and the cane he used for support, Councilman Lane remained as fearsome a figure as he had been in his long-gone youth. The Councilman of Mantle was one of the few surviving veterans of the Great War, and certainly the last one holding public office. He was as tall and stern as he had been eighty years ago, though his snow-white hair and weathered brown skin betrayed his age and his weariness was reflected in his faded green eyes. 

“Good morning, James,” Lane greeted him. “Or, well, as good as it can be, given the grim circumstances.” 

James climbed the steps and took his hand. “Councilman Lane, have you been waiting long?” 

“Only twenty minutes or so. Ash is already inside, admiring the new paintings.” He said it like a dirty word, and James couldn’t blame him. Councilman Mateus was an art collector, and not at all shy about reminding people about it. It could become… grating over time to say the least. 

“Well, we should get inside before he starts monologuing to the staff.” 

They found Mateus in the Council chamber, staring up at one of the large murals that had been installed in the recent renovations to the building. It showed a young man, tall and strong, holding a Mantlean flag at the head of a procession of men that streamed forth from a mountain pass as a multicolored dust explosion lit the air from where they’d come. James was no connoisseur, but even to his untrained eye the stark lighting and beautiful colors were spectacular. 

Lane, on the other hand, seemed unimpressed. “I told them I didn’t want a painting. And they’ve got it all wrong. I was at the rear of the formation, so that I could ignite the dust mine myself. And I certainly wasn’t holding a flag.” 

James couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He could sympathize with Lane’s frustration, of course. As the head of the military he’d dealt with many people glamorizing his role in various operations. But there was something about the old man’s cantankerousness that amused him. “I think it’s supposed to be symbolic,” he told him. 

“It’s revisionist!”

Mateus rolled his eyes. “Timur, it’s just a painting, and quite a fine one at that. A Finch original, actually. I have one a couple of his paintings at home, I’m something of an art collector-” 

“We know!” James and Lane shouted in unison. 

James cleared his throat and composed himself. “What I mean to say is, this is a very stressful time, and we should probably direct our attention to our duties, rather than discussing artwork.” 

“Quite right,” Lane agreed. “Why exactly have you called us here, Councilman?” 

“Well,” Mateus made his way towards the table, “with the passing of our dear colleague, we are in a difficult position. I’d love to take our time mourning Tad, but while we have an empty seat we risk getting caught in gridlock. Now, I’m all for small government, but I think we can all agree that rendering the Council impotent in the wake of this tragedy could cause a lot of problems. Therefore, I’m proposing that we call a special election as soon as is feasible.” 

James was somewhat surprised. Mateus was actually looking at the big picture instead of focusing on petty disagreements. Maybe the shock of Tad’s death had awoken something in him. 

“And besides,” Mateus continued, “I have my upcoming reelection to worry about. I don’t want this mess distracting the electorate.” 

Never mind, he hadn’t changed a bit. Skewed priorities aside, though, he had a point. Currently Atlas’s three most prominent parties each controlled a single seat on the Council, save for James and the Military Party, who held two. If the other two wanted to keep James from having total control of the Council, they’d have to band together to force a stalemate, and then the Council wouldn’t be able to get anything done. 

James nodded. “Very well. What time frame are you proposing?” 

“One month.” 

“A month!?” Lane sputtered. “You’re out of your mind! It will be practically impossible to fund a half-decent campaign in that amount of time, let alone reach the public!” 

The younger man shrugged. “Look, Timur, I don’t have a horse in this race. The Fiscal Party hasn’t won the Greater Atlas seat in nearly thirty years. I just want things to get moving again, surely you can appreciate that. I say we put it to a vote. All in favor?” 

Mateus raised his hand and responded “Aye” to his own question. James followed suit, leaving Lane as the sole dissenting vote. The old man shook his head, but said nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” James said, “but we need to keep Atlas moving forward, even if there have to be a few sacrifices to do so. The next proper election for this seat is only a year away, we can afford to rush a few things.” 

“A year can make a world of difference, James. The laws that began us on the path to the War were passed in less time.” Lane sighed. “Very well, I am not going to argue with democracy. But I still think this is a bad idea.” 

“Thank you, Timur. I’ve always appreciated that team spirit of yours.” Mateus’s smile was as hollow as his words. “I think we should adjourn for the day in order to focus on the election. Agreed?” 

James was relieved at the suggestion. While the military party had controlled Greater Atlas’s seat for nearly a decade, it had always been a close race. He’d need to speak with his senior political analyst as soon as possible if he wanted to keep a majority. “Very well,” he agreed. 

Lane was silent, but gave a slight nod, then turned and hobbled towards the door. Before leaving the room, he turned and met James’s gaze. “I am sorry,” he told him, “for what I will be forced to do.” And then he was gone, before James could ask what he meant.


	3. Venom and Blood

## Chapter Three

### Venom and Blood

##### Winter

The crime scene was as gruesome as it had seemed on the hologram. CSI workers had laid tarps over the bodies, but Winter could still see the bloodstains on the city pavement. Curiously, the concrete had been eaten away, scored with pits and divots where the blood had spilled over it. 

“We suspect it’s the same toxin that killed the Councilman,” the head technician told her. 

“Toxin?” From the injuries she’d seen on the body, she’d assumed his throat had been cut. 

The tech nodded. “Some sort of corrosive substance, we’ll know more soon once the tests are finished. It seems to have mixed with the blood after dissolving the skin and flesh of his throat. 

Winter had seen death before, of course, but the mental image was so visceral that she had to choke down a dry heave. “What kind of substance could do that?” 

“Corrosion dust is the most likely option,” he told her. “It’s rare and hard to make, not to mention illegal, but it eats through flesh and aura like butter against a blowtorch.” 

Even her father knew better than to work with dust that volatile; it wasn’t worth the lawsuits. Even so, she’d learned quite a bit about dust’s properties as a child. “Dust doesn’t mix with fluid,” she pointed out, “why would the blood become corrosive on contact with it?” 

“A good question, and one we hope we’ll have an answer for in a couple minutes. In the meantime, I was hoping we could go over the other injuries. As you may have noticed, the Councilman’s arm was severed. Based on our preliminary analysis, it was severed posthumously with several brute-force chops from a bladed weapon. We don’t know much else because the severed arm is gone.” 

“Gone? Was it some sort of trophy?” 

“I can’t imagine what other reasons they’d have to take it. We were hoping that you might-” His scroll buzzed. “Sorry, one second.” He held the device to his ear, and was greeted by a voice which Winter couldn’t quite make out on the other end. “What? Are you sure? That doesn’t make any sense. Yes, I know but- Okay.” He hung up the call and sighed.

“What is it?” 

“The lab has finished their tests on the Councilman’s blood. No sign of dust, or any known toxin for that matter. What they did find was that the blood was a mix of cells from two different people. The corrosion damaged most of the usual genetic markers, but they’re reasonably sure one is the Councilman, and the other sample shows some unique proteins which signify that it belonged to a faunus.” 

“Perhaps the killer was injured and contaminated the sample.” 

“That’s our best guess as well, but it still doesn’t explain the corrosion, and the cell death they observed is consistent with some sort of venom.” 

Why did it have to be so complicated? A straight answer on this question wouldn’t have ended the case but it would have made things a hell of a lot easier. Winter had come here looking for answers and now she had a dozen new questions and no idea how to find the answer to any of them. 

She checked the time. Already almost ten o’ clock. “If you will excuse me,” she said, “my partner for this case will be arriving shortly, and I should probably meet her at the docks. We will return to continue the investigation within the hour.” Maybe a second, more unorthodox set of eyes would be of use here. “Make sure the scene is not disturbed.”

The investigator saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Even now, hours after the news had broken, students and civil servants hung around the outside of the Academy, their voices filling the air with an anxious hum. In her younger days, Winter might have joined them in their impotent fear, but not now. She was a soldier, and she had a job to do. Unfortunately, as of this moment that job meant waiting among the masses, hoping that an attention-deficient rookie had kept to schedule.

Winter first noticed Iris Moreau as a splash of brilliant color against the grayish blue of the Atlesian sky. She watched as the indistinct form took shape, a sleek white airship trailing a spectrum of colored light in its wake. The ship darted towards the docks far more quickly than Winter was comfortable with, but before she could think to conjure a glyph to slow its descent the multicolored thrusters swivelled and it came to a perfectly-timed, if rather shaky halt just above the landing pad. 

The ship’s boarding ramp hadn’t even touched the ground when a vaguely human-shaped blur darted down it before skidding to a stop in front of her with a shout of “Winter!” Iris was a rainbow in and of herself. Her white armor had a faint pearlescent sheen, and was streaked with colorful etchings that graded from deep violet at the toes of her boots to vibrant orange on her shoulder pads. Her scarlet eyes and the streak of crimson in her dark hair completed the effect. 

“Miss Moreau,” Winter said. “I’m glad to see you made it here at our agreed-upon time.” 

“Aw, I’m glad to see you too!” Iris tried to go in for a hug, but Winter stopped her with an outstretched arm. 

“Have you read the information I sent you about the case?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I had time to look it over during the flight. Anyway, how have you been, it’s been ages!” 

Winter was taken aback by the question. “It’s only been a few months, er… I am in good health. Are you… alright?” 

“Oh, I’ll be just fine once I’ve had a bit of caffeine to calm me down.” Winter was reasonably sure that wasn’t how it worked, but she decided not to mention it. “This is gonna be great,” Iris continued. “I’ve always wanted to be a part of a buddy cop murder mystery!” She looked back and forth furtively as if they were being watched, which Winter supposed they were given the amount of noise the younger huntress was making. “Me, the dashing wild card, you the badass veteran with a secret heart of gold! The intrigue, the suspense, the drama! It’s gonna be the best!” 

“We are not ‘buddies,’” Winter told her. “And you should take this a little more seriously. This isn’t just an ordinary case. Also,” she muttered under her breath, “nobody is supposed to know I’m the one conducting this investigation.” 

“Oh,” Iris whispered, “sorry.” 

Winter hurried her off of the docks and back towards the scene of the crime, already regretting making this decision. Why had she decided to trust a huntress from outside the military? She must have been sleep-deprived and not thinking clearly, but it was too late to turn back now. 

They were nearly back at the crime scene when Iris suddenly grabbed her shoulder. “Wait! I forgot!” She started rummaging through the courier bag that hung from her shoulder before producing an ornate envelope. “This is for you!” 

“You’re still delivering mail?” 

“Well, you kinda called me in the middle of my route. I’ll have to drop the rest of these off at the Academy once we’re done for the day.” 

Winter took the envelope and couldn’t help but smile as she read the sender’s name. Weiss. She’d been so disoriented by the chaos of the morning that she’d completely forgotten that her sister had started school at Beacon Academy this week. While she still couldn’t fathom why Weiss had chosen to go across an ocean to attend school instead of taking advantage of Atlas’s far more disciplined academy, she was glad to hear from her. “Thank you,” she told Iris. “It means a lot.” 

“It’s from your sister, right?” 

“Yes.” 

Iris’s gaze seemed unfocused. “Must be nice…” Winter got the impression that the words weren’t really addressed to her. 

The crime scene was much as Winter had left it; it took a few minutes to explain the CSI team’s findings to Iris, but she was very quick on the uptake when she wasn’t getting sidetracked by minor details. When Winter finished explaining, Iris simply nodded.

“Well, that definitely explains some things.”

Winter furrowed her brow. “It does?” She wasn’t sure if the girl had seen something she hadn’t or was just trying to look like she knew what she was doing.

“It has the effects of some sort of corrosive poison, right? Without any physical trace of the poison itself? Only one reasonable explanation for that, I’d say. The killer must have some sort of venomous semblance.”

She might as well have slapped Winter in the face. How had she not thought of that? It made too much sense. Any physical effect created by a semblance would most likely completely dissipate once the killer was done with it, and it would explain its potency. Perhaps bringing Iris onboard hadn’t been a bad idea after all. “That would explain quite a bit,” she managed. “Let’s finish up here, make sure we haven’t missed anything. Then we’ll check the Academy database and see if we can find anyone with a semblance matching that description.”


	4. Enter the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter's investigation takes her to Atlas's immense intelligence database, but why she finds isn't quite what she was hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter took so long. I was halfway through writing chapter four before I realized it shouldn't BE chapter four so I had to reorganize some things and start from the beginning of the chapter.

Chapter Four

**Enter the Dragon**

_Winter_

Atlas Academy's CCT Tower was unique. Not only was the gargantuan structure around twice the size of those in the other kingdoms, it was divided into two separate sections. The upper section, which housed most of the broadcasting and computing equipment, was open to the public and fulfilled much the same function as the other towers, but the lower third of the tower was sealed behind several levels of high-tech security and accessible only to the Atlas Council and select military personnel. This section housed the Logistical Archive/Defensive Organizational Network, or LADON, the kingdom’s cutting edge security database.

Getting access to LADON was hard enough even with Winter’s security clearance. Besides needing to pass through two security checkpoints, the final door was secured with a twofold biometric system meant to protect against forged documents and illusory semblances. Once that was over, she’d have to deal with LADON itself. The AI that operated the database was remarkably advanced, probably the second-most intelligent one of its kind on Remnant, and it was extremely diligent. Nobody did anything with LADON unless it had triple-checked their requests against every code, law, and order in its extensive archives. Some specialists even claimed that LADON held grudges against those who berated or insulted it, although Winter was pretty sure those were just rumors.

Compounding these miles of red tape were the additional problems with bringing along a guest, especially one from outside the military. Winter had been tempted to leave Iris outside to bother the students, but after the younger huntress’s quick thinking at the crime scene she had decided the hassle was worth the extra pair of eyes. Now, standing at the final checkpoint, she was beginning to regret it.

Iris tapped her foot against the floor. “Are we done yet?” “

No,” Winter said. “There’s still the biometric scanner.”

“Uuuugh! We’ve been here for hours!”

“It has been approximately thirty-three minutes. You’re a pilot, I’d expect you’d be used to waiting.”

Iris pouted. “Yeah but when they’re loading my ship I can play games on my scroll without being tackled by guys in heavy armor.”

“There was a sign,” Winter pointed out. “Regardless, this is the most comprehensive database of military intelligence on the planet. We can’t risk anything, or anyone, slipping through the cracks.”

“They are gonna give me my scroll back, though?”

Winter sighed and kept walking, up to the final door.

“Hey! Winter! They’re gonna give it back, right!?”

Winter ignored her and placed her palm on the biometric scanner. As it checked her palm print, a needle pricked her wrist to draw a DNA sample. It was a rather ingenious device, designed by the late Dr. Arthur Watts using a largely-analogue dust-based system to keep it from being hacked.

“I mean, it’s not a huge deal but I still have some pictures of my ex on there and-” Iris went silent as the door slid open. “Holy crap.”

Unlike the sleek, sanitized look of the upper levels of the tower, the chamber which housed LADON was built more for function than form, but if anything this only made it more impressive, as there had been no attempt to hide the immense hardware which loomed overhead. So many rows of ice dust-powered coolers lined the walls that the room was kept several degrees colder than the outside, in spite of the heat given off by the computers. Scientists and technicians scurried about, so dwarfed by their surroundings that they looked like streams of ants. Winter had marched halfway to the bank of terminals on the far end of the room before she realized she was walking alone. She shot a look over her shoulder, and saw Iris still standing catatonic in the doorway, jaw hanging open. Winter stalked back and flicked her across the bridge of her nose, snapping her back to reality. “Come on, we have work to do.”

Iris blinked and shook her head in a motion that reminded Winter of a wet dog trying to dry itself. “Yeah, right.”

Winter was surprised to see the friendly face of Dr. Pietro Polendina alongside the usual intelligence operatives. Dressed in his usual colorful ensemble, the old man stood out from the crowd of uniformed personnel like a macaw flying over Solitas’s tundra. While he was one of the highest ranking scientific personnel in Atlas, Dr. Polendina’s research projects rarely intersected with the intelligence work being done here, making his presence a bit of an anomaly. “I’ve been using LADON to work on some upgrades to Amity Colosseum for the tournament in Vale,” he explained. “The data he’s collected from the previous festivals has been invaluable.”

Iris stroked her chin. “Why do ‘valuable’ or ‘invaluable’ mean the same thing? It’s like that with ‘flammable’ and ‘inflammable’ too…”

Winter ignored her. “We’re here on classified business,” she told the doctor. “We require the use of LADON to pursue some leads.”

“Well, I can step back for a minute if you need your privacy. The booths are mostly soundproof but I know the General likes to take extra precautions.”

“That would be ideal, sir.”

Polendina smiled. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He turned his motorized chair and walked away to converse with some of the technicians.

Winter had to pull Iris, who was mumbling something about burning someone’s valuables, into the terminal booth. “So,” Iris asked, “what’re we looking for?”

“We’re checking Atlas’s records for anyone with a known toxic semblance that could have caused the wounds observed on the corpse.”

“You guys have a list of everyone’s semblances? That seems a little invasive.”

“Not everyone,” Winter corrected, “only people with criminal records... and students... and military personnel... and notable public figures… and those considered at risk of criminal behavior.”

“Right,” Iris said. “Not everyone, just everyone that fits within some really vague parameters that can be expanded as needed.”

“Precisely.” Winter was glad that she saw the use in it. “Now, let me just enter the search parameters and the system should return a list of suspects.”

After about five minutes of waiting, LADON finally produced a list of sixteen individuals. Two of them were graduates of Atlas Academy, one was a current student, three were members of the military, and the remaining ten were various criminals. She decided to start with the military personnel first, given Internal Affairs’ suspicion that the killer was connected to someone of high rank. None of the toxins in question could corrode organic matter, however, so she moved on to the criminals.

“This one’s promising,” Iris said. “Lerna Fen.” Fen was, according to his file, a bandit in northern Anima whose gang had clashed with authorities in Argus two years ago. Sure enough, his semblance was the ability to turn his own blood into a corrosive toxin, which felt like it fit almost too well with Councilman Willows’ manner of death.

“LADON,” Winter said, “can you run a search of the CCT system as to Lerna Fen’s last known whereabouts?”

JUST ONE MOMENT, flashed the text on the screen, though it was actually a full minute before it responded. I AM AFRAID THAT LERNA FEN IS DECEASED. HE WAS KILLED THREE MONTHS AGO WHEN A HUNTSMAN ATTACKED HIS GANG’S ENCAMPMENT, KILLING OR CAPTURING ALL TWELVE BANDITS PRESENT.

Damn. Not to mention, she realized as she looked back at the file, Fen had been human, while the blood at the crime scene had belonged to a faunus. She scolded herself for forgetting to include “faunus” in the search parameters.

The other results proved just as fruitless. Corrosive venom, as it turned out, was a rarity. Most people with toxic semblances used them to paralyze or weaken. She had hoped that this line of inquiry would at least give them a couple potential suspects, but they were in the same place as before they’d come here. “So much for that idea,” she muttered, “we have nothing.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true.” Iris grinned. “We have a bit more information on who it isn’t!”

“I… sure.” She’d take any victory she could get. “LADON, has any data been entered regarding…” she lowered her voice “...the killing of Councilman Willows?”

SEARCHING. Another few minutes passed. YES. INTERVIEWS OF WITNESSES HAVE JUST BEEN PROCESSED INTO MY SYSTEM. MOST OF THEM ARE ONLY DESCRIBING THE BLACKOUT, HOWEVER.

It couldn’t hurt to listen, Winter supposed. “How many recordings do you have?”

ALL IN ALL, I HAVE SEVEN HOURS OF TESTIMONIES.

She had to stop herself from cursing. It was going to be a long night.


	5. Imperfect Allies

**Chapter Five**

Imperfect Allies

_Robyn_

The sprawling neighborhoods of Upper Atlas had been given their name for a reason. It wasn’t just that they were literally above most of the city, save of course for Atlas Academy itself, but that they held themselves above the rest of the kingdom in their own minds. They had more money, more influence, and more security than any other place on Remnant, and they knew it. Everything about the ugly, sterile mansions screamed out for passersby to gaze upon the wealth and opulence of their owners, though most of the extra wings and extravagant windows had no real purpose. Just looking at them out the car window made Robyn seethe, so she couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like to actually have to set foot inside one. 

“This is a bad idea,” she said for what must have been the thirtieth time.

In the driver's seat beside her, Councilman Timur Lane sighed. “I understand your reservations, but we have been given little choice. Ironwood has forced our hand, and if we want to keep him from regaining a majority on the Council the Reform Party needs a candidate we know can win.”

Robyn had known Timur Lane for over a decade, and she respected the years of service he’d given to Mantle and the kingdom of Atlas, but she couldn’t stop her anger from bleeding into her words.“Frankly, that’s a load of crap and you know it. What’s the point of getting another Council seat for the Reformers if the person occupying it doesn’t represent us or our values? And besides, the Party has been setting Camilla up for years to take this seat.” It wasn’t that Robyn liked Camilla, she was still rich and far too moderate for her tastes, but she would be better than this. _Anything_ would be better than this.

“And in any other circumstances I would wholeheartedly support her for this nomination, but thanks to James’s absurd one month timeframe we don’t have time to raise the funds. The Military Party is going to be putting all the resources it can into winning this election, and the Luminas are the only people who can provide the money we need to match them.” 

_Of course they could_ , Robyn thought. As the family behind Atlas’s largest bank, Ensign Global, the Lumina family was probably the second or third richest in the kingdom, maybe in all of Remnant. But that only made her hate the idea even more. “If we accept Lumina’s money, then we accept the influence of the banks over not just this seat, but our entire party. Is that really what you want?”

The aged councilman was silent for a long time. He knew she was right, she could tell, so why wouldn’t he say it? “I know that it is far from ideal,” he eventually managed, “but it is better than the alternative. I truly wish that there were _any_ other viable option but with only a month until the election we literally cannot afford to look for the best possible candidate.”  
“So that’s a good reason to choose the worst?” 

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it? Dawn Lumina is a billionaire trust fund kid who’s never known a moment of hardship in her life, how can we trust her to represent our people when she isn’t one of them?” 

“She was born into wealth, yes, but she’s also a huntress, it’s not like she has been locked in an ivory tower for her whole life. She is more like you than you are giving her credit for.”

“She’s nothing like me. Being a huntress isn’t a life for her, it’s a hobby. She’s never had to work for it.”

“You don’t have to like her, Robyn, but please try to blunt your words when we speak to her. This is our chance to take control of the Council back from General Ironwood, but it will require compromise. It is better to have an imperfect ally than a certain enemy.”

Robyn was about to retort that she’d rather know who her enemies were than have to worry about being stabbed in the back, when the car crested the hill and the Lumina estate came into view. The mansion was as garish as the rest, if not more so given the gold trim that adorned every available surface, but if its intent was to draw attention, it had failed miserably. The house itself, while certainly grand by most standards, was dwarfed by what appeared to be a colossal greenhouse that took up most of the grounds. Inside she could see an expanse of greenery unlike any she’d ever seen in the icy north, regardless of Atlas’s controlled climate.

“What is that?” She asked. “Not enough that she’s almost as rich as the Schnees, she has to have her own private jungle as well?”

“The Armin Botanical Gardens,” Timur told her. “I believe it was a wedding present from Narciso Lumina -Dawn’s father- to his wife.” 

It made her blood boil that so much lien had been spent on something so frivolous, but she swallowed her anger. It was a generation past, and she needed to stay focused on the injustices of the present. 

As Timur’s rusty old vintage contraption pulled into the grounds, they were met by a young faunus man in a white suit. A security guard, judging by the ID badge and taser on his hip. He tapped on the window and Robyn rolled it open. “Councilman Lane?” he asked in a voice she’d assumed police officers only used on TV. 

“Regrettably,” Timur affirmed.

“I am to escort you to Mrs. Lumina’s office immediately. We will park your vehicle for you.”

Robyn noticed that he didn’t bother checking them for weapons. Either Lumina trusted them or she was shockingly confident in her own ability to defend herself, probably the latter. 

They were led into a room that she could only describe as a lobby, though she wasn’t sure if that was the right word for a private residence. Its stone walls were largely barren of decoration save for a handful of framed movie posters which adorned the walls. Each showcased a smiling, dark-skinned man with white-blonde hair who Robyn recognized immediately as Lumina’s husband. Emilio Irving, former teen idol and current movie star, was about as familiar a face as one could get, and she’d even seen some of the films the posters were advertising. She wondered whose idea it had been to hang them there.

The two of them were led upstairs into an atrociously dazzling hallway and then to a single door that was probably made from some fancy wood Robyn had never even heard of. The doorknob was gold, as well. Not gold-colored, literally gold. What compelled rich people to be so obnoxious with their money? 

The guard knocked on the door and stood back. After a few seconds it opened and their host emerged. Robyn couldn’t deny that Dawn Lumina was an attractive woman, and her choice of attire suggested that she was well aware of this and in fact had decided to emphasize it as much as was possible while still maintaining a semblance of class. The gold of her eyes seemed to shine even in the shadow of the doorframe, and her teeth practically sparkled as she grinned.

“Timur, darling! Still remarkably healthy for a man of your age, I see.” She looked past him to Robyn. “And Robyn, yes? It’s been a long time, not since we were in school, if I recall correctly.” 

Robyn had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. They hadn’t even known each other when they were attending Atlas Academy, the closest they’d gotten to interacting was when they both made it into the singles round of the Vytal Festival Tournament. Still, she suppressed her exasperation and forced a smile. “Mrs. Lumina, thank you for inviting us into your home.” 

She stepped forward to offer her hand but Lumnia twirled away and strutted back into the office, waving for them to follow her.

“‘Dawn’ is just fine, dear. After all, I expect we’ll be colleagues sooner rather than later, assuming our mutual friend here has the good sense to retire instead of working himself into the grave.”

“As tactful as ever,” Timur remarked. “But not inaccurate, I suppose.” It was true that he’d been under increasing pressure from the Reform Party Committee to step down in the next election cycle, though Robyn privately suspected that he’d never leave public service until he was either dead or satisfied with what he’d accomplished, neither of which seemed likely at this point. “Now,” he continued, “about why we’re here-”

“Oh come now,” Lumina said, “sit down, have a drink. Emilio is on a late-night shoot and my daughter’s governess has taken her out to a movie, so I’m free all evening. No need to turn this into a somber affair.”

“Alas, as my years go by I find myself less and less of an evening person. Perhaps it would be best to get down to business while I am still conscious.”

Lumina clicked her tongue, then shrugged. “Oh, very well. So, given that you’ve decided to pay me a personal visit, I assume that my proposal was well-received?” 

Well-received was one way to put it. In truth, as Timur had said, it was desperation. The Central Committee of the Reform Party had been near to dying of a collective aneurysm when they had learned about General Ironwood’s absurd one-month timetable for the election. It was an obvious power play, and one that was nearly impossible to counter. The military could afford to drop millions of lien into a political campaign at a moment’s notice but the Reformers weren’t so privileged. So when the daughter of the wealthiest banking family in the kingdom had fielded her candidacy, of course they had jumped at the opportunity. 

Timur, of course, had spent decades in politics, and knew not to give that fact away. “The Reform Party is… tentatively… accepting you as our candidate for the Greater Atlas council seat.” 

“Excellent!” Lumina clapped her hands. “I’ll begin making preparations immediately. We’ll need to plan and shoot advertisements, and of course book venues for speeches. I’m thinking of hosting a party here to announce it-” 

“First,” Robyn interjected, “I want to know why. What’s in this for you? No offense, cheekbones, but the banks have never been friends to our cause. Why the sudden shift in attitude?” 

Lumina waved her hand. “I admit my dear brother was reluctant when I asked him to support the Reformers, but we do want what’s best for Atlas, in the end. James Ironwood is a dangerous fool, and the more power he has, the worse off we’ll all be.” 

Robyn’s eyebrow quirked up. “That’s all? No personal feelings involved?” There was something she was leaving out. Everyone at the Academy had heard the rumors of what had gone down between Dawn Lumina and James Ironwood. Still, she wanted to hear it in Lumina’s own words.

Lumina’s expression grew dark, and something cold and furious flashed in her eyes. Had Robyn pushed too far? But she just closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded her head. “You’re right, I should be honest. As I’m sure you are aware, of anyone in this room, I am the one who has suffered the most from James Ironwood’s incompetence.” 

Timur’s brow twisted in concern. Apparently he hadn’t heard the stories. “Whatever do you mean?”

Lumina seated herself at the desk, picking up a pen and letting it dance over her fingers. “In my first year attending Atlas Academy, I was, of course, assigned as the leader of my team. I won’t pretend that my teammates and I always got along, but they were good friends, and I could tell they’d be great huntresses. We excelled in our classes, were loved by our professors and our peers, life at the Academy seemed like a dream come true… and then came our first mission.

“As usual, we were assigned to a special operative who would supervise us in the field, and to our misfortune, that operative was none other than James Ironwood.” From her lips, the name sounded like a curse. “It should have been easy. We needed to reach a remote outpost that had lost contact with command. I suggested we take a less direct route through the taiga to give ourselves cover from the grimm. He said it would take too much time, and insisted on taking the direct route across the open tundra. He refused to listen, no matter how much I warned him that it was a bad idea…” Her eyes were unfocused, staring off at a distant memory. “And of course, just like I said, the grimm came. We were an easy target, out in the open with no cover or place to run.”

She twirled the pen in her fingers and then stabbed it down into the desk. “I was the only member of my team who survived until nightfall. And James? He claimed it was my fault. That my ‘negativity’ had drawn the grimm.” Her gaze was almost glowing with fury, even as her voice remained calm and collected. “Every night I hear my partner’s dying screams. Every. Night. Please trust me, Miss Hill, I will do anything to make certain that he pays for that day.”

Trust her. That was a big ask. Robyn was not in the habit of trusting anyone who hadn’t fought and bled with her. Atlas, as she had learned, was built on deception, and the only thing you could count on anyone to do was to act in their own interests. But what were her interests? Lumina hated General Ironwood, that much was clear. But enough to invest as much money as would be needed to win this council seat? That was harder to say. But she remembered Timur’s words. _It is better to have an imperfect ally than a certain enemy_. 

She stepped forward and forced a smile. “Alright,” she said, offering her hand, “I guess I can work with that.”

Lumina smiled back, but ignored Robyn’s outstretched hand, instead standing up and retrieving a bottle of vintage Mistrali wine from a cabinet above the desk. “It will be a pleasure working with you, Robyn.” She poured three glasses, took one, and raised it up. “To victory in the fight ahead of us.” 

Robyn gingerly took a glass, holding it away from her as if it were about to sprout fangs. “To victory,” she managed.


	6. Nightmare Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the investigation into Councilman Willows' death continues, James Ironwood struggles with a newfound political dilemma.

_Winter_

Another hour, another cup of coffee. At this point, Winter’s feet weren’t so much tapping the floor but thrumming against it in a constant drone. She strained to pick up the audio recording over the noise.

“We were having a dinner party on the balcony,” the witness was saying, “we saw the power go out across the whole area.”

_Taptaptaptaptap_

“I’ve seen plenty of scheduled blackouts before, they always go the same way, along the power lines one block after another.”

_Taptaptaptap_

“This was like a ripple, spreading out from one location in a sort of circle. My wife works for the Department of Public Utilities so I know how this stuff works, there’s no reason it should’ve done that.”

_Taptaptaptap_

“And there was this noise. Like a... a whistle? It was far away, but it wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard before and I’ve lived in this city for my whole life.”

_Taptaptap_

_Crunch crunch_

Winter’s head jolted back around. Iris was sitting behind her, an opened packet of uncooked spaghetti in her lap. Winter blinked. “What are you doing?”

Iris shrugged helplessly. “Ish shpaggeddi.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

She swallowed. “Sorry. It’s spaghetti.”

“Yes, I can see that, but... why?”

“You have your ways of staying awake, I have mine.”

“How does... you know what, I genuinely have no desire to know your thought process here.” They’d been listening to testimonies for hours, Winter couldn’t be sure she’d understand the explanation even if it did make sense.

“She mentioned the sound again,” Iris said, pointing to the scroll which was still playing the woman’s testimony.

“Yes, I heard. That’s the sixteenth time one of the witnesses have brought it up.”

“That’s gotta be a clue, right?”

“This isn’t a video game, not every detail is a clue.” Still, Winter knew she was probably right. Not only had so many witnesses reported the noise, which was variably described as a whistle, shriek, or piping sound, but she’d noticed that the reports were more common among those who lived closest to the scene of the attack. It was likely to be relevant to the investigation, but Winter didn’t like to put her faith in things that were just ‘likely’. She wanted to be certain before she brought it to General Ironwood. “Regardless, this is one of the last clips. Three more and we’re done for the night.”

“Yay, time to go to sleep...” Iris checked her scroll, “just before dawn!”

“You’re a pilot, you should be used to working nights.”

“Yeah, but then I know I’m going somewhere, ya know? Right now it just feels like we’re running in place.”

Winter sighed. “I know. But this isn’t like the movies. Investigation takes time, patience, and a lot of dead ends. That doesn’t mean we have to like it, but those are our orders. Let’s just get through these so we can go to sleep.” She stifled a yawn.

Iris immediately yawned as well. “Would some spaghetti make you feel better?”

“No it would not.”

The final recordings held little in the way of new insight, just more of the same basic descriptions and a couple conspiracy theories concocted by panicked civilians. By the time they finished it was indeed nearly sunrise, but Winter had one more item on her agenda. As she closed the door to her quarters she pulled out the letter Iris had given her back at the crime scene and gingerly removed the wax seal.

Weiss’s handwriting was as immaculate as ever, a neat, flowing cursive which she had even accentuated with decorative designs in the margins. “ _Dear Winter_ ,” it began, “ _Yesterday was initiation, and while I performed exceptionally you would not believe the disrespect I was shown after it concluded. Not only was I passed up as the leader of my team, but the position was given to a rank amateur who I’m pretty sure isn’t even old enough to be here! Worse still, this childish dolt is my partner, which I cannot imagine will go well. I plan on filing a complaint with Professor Ozpin as soon as possible. Still, things aren’t all bad. While classes have not yet begun, I have already made good progress into our textbooks. Our living quarters are adequate and tidy, though who knows how long that will last with these ruffians living here. Oh, and you would not believe who I met yesterday: Pyrrha Nikos! We hit it off right away, of course, though my plans to end up on the same team as her were foiled by the insufferable brat I mentioned before..._ ”

_James_

James had been sure that, at the very least, this morning would be better than the last, but the world seemed determined to prove him wrong. “You’re absolutely sure?”

Gilroy nodded. “I’m afraid so, sir. The Reform Party just received a donation of millions of lien from the Committee for Coordinated Action, a think tank that’s been controlled by the Lumina family since its inception. We have reports that Dawn Lumina is preparing an important announcement later this week. And then there’s this.” He handed James a black and white photograph showing an ancient car pulling into a large estate. “Surveillance footage clearly shows Councilman Lane’s vehicle entering the Lumina Estate last night. There can be no other conclusion, sir. The Reform Party is preparing to announce Dawn Lumina as their candidate for the Atlas Council.”

James felt his flesh-and-blood hand curl so tightly that it ached. “This is a nightmare scenario.” Lumina wasn’t just a threat to the Council seat, if she was elected he knew it’d only encourage her to make his life a living hell, and that was not a distraction he could afford, not now. If he had been a religious man he might have begged the gods to spare him from this mess.

“Not necessarily.” Gilroy handed him another piece of paper, this one showing a chart that James couldn’t even begin to understand. “Lumina is thirty years old, four years younger than the youngest person to ever be elected to the Council. She has no experience in politics. If we nominate a candidate which highlights these traits, we should be able to paint her as a weak, unqualified candidate and easily defeat her in the polls.”

James allowed himself to relax a little bit. Gilroy hadn’t become Military Party’s senior political analyst without knowing what he was talking about. “You have someone in mind?”

“Just the person, in fact. Cassie Grunwald: Master’s degree in law, former commander in the Air Fleet, took up civil service, has been an exceptional bureaucrat for over a decade, she’s everything that Lumina isn’t.”

James knew Grunwald, having briefly served under her back when he was a Special Operative, but he hadn’t heard that she had entered into politics. She was intelligent and loyal, and while Gilroy talked like a living slideshow presentation there was no one James trusted more in these matters. If he thought she was the right pick, he was probably right. “Alright,” he said, “take the suggestion to the Committee, I’m certain they’ll sign off on her nomination.”

“Very good, sir.”

James waited until Gilroy had left the office before muffling a scream of frustration with his hands. Things were getting out of hand. The Vytal Festival was looming on the horizon, White Fang attacks were on the rise, a murderer was loose in Atlas, there might be a spy in his own ranks, his greatest failure was coming back to haunt him, and of course _she_ was still out there. That was the worst part. He could have handled all these complications if he hadn’t known there was a horrific existential threat just waiting beyond his kingdom’s borders, and no one had any idea what she was planning. _Gods damn it, Qrow, you’d better have found something out there. We can’t fight a war when we’re blind._

War. That’s what it was, even if Ozpin refused to call it one. A war which most of its combatants had no idea they were fighting, and the few that did barely knew more than that. Except Oz, of course, but his lips were sealed tight. Every day James checked their encrypted frequency, hoping for Qrow’s field report, but he’d sent nothing in nearly a month.

He needed a walk. Stewing in all this stress was making his joints ache.

Making his way down to the Academy grounds, he was relieved to see that things had more or less gotten back to normal. Students marched past him in an orderly fashion, military personnel had returned to their posts, and Professor Redcap was excoriating Team FNKI for trying to host an unauthorized concert in the main courtyard. It was relaxed as Atlas Academy ever got, which only made the tension he was feeling worse.

Across the courtyard he spotted the distinctive form of Special Operative Magnolia Xanthe. Judging by the dark circles around her eyes, she must have been working all night to find the leak in Atlas’s security, but when she saw James she turned and made her way over to where he was standing with her usual brisk determination.

“Sir,” she saluted, “I have information on the investigation.”

“Already?” He’d expected having to wait at least another week before hearing anything. Maybe this problem would be out of his hair sooner than expected.

“It’s nothing conclusive, sir. But we have a couple of leads and I’d like to make a few recommendations as to our next course of action.”

“Excellent. Meet me at Training Room 6 at ten hundred hours to debrief.”

Even in her current state of exhaustion he noticed a little half-smirk, which was the closest Xanthe ever got to a smile. “Yes, sir. Armed or unarmed?”

“Let’s do unarmed this time.”

“Understood, sir.”

That was one weight off of his shoulders. Some good news and a chance to relieve some tension at the same time.

_Winter_

A loud knock at the door jolted Winter awake. She blinked and looked around. Her uniform was still on, and she was sitting at her desk, which meant she must have fallen asleep while reading. In a moment of panic she whipped out her scroll and checked the time. Ten hundred hours, a little too late for it to feel entirely professional, but earlier than she’d feared. She rose from her desk while doing her best to straighten up her clothes. “I’m here,” she called out, “allow me a moment, please.” She did her best to make her hair look neat and then opened the door.

The young woman in front of her wore an Academy uniform, but the badge on her lapel showed she was staff, not a student. “Miss Schnee,” she said, “this letter arrived for you fifteen minutes ago.”

Another letter? It couldn’t be from Weiss. Her confusion only grew as the woman drew a large, ornate envelope from her bag. Winter had seen plenty of fancy, expensive stationary in her time but this was something else. It was enormous and trimmed with rose gold leafing, and it bore a seal of maroon wax with a symbol stamped into it. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was meant to represent. A butterfly, perhaps, or a flower? Regardless, this was not the sort of envelope one used for routine correspondence.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the letter and trying to think of who it might be from. The color scheme wasn’t “on-brand” enough to be from her father or any of his lackeys, thank goodness, but who else would be bothering her with expensive postage? She took another look at the symbol on the seal, but nothing stood out to her. A personal emblem, perhaps? She knew many people across Remnant, especially huntsmen and huntresses, liked to create custom designs that represented them as an individual, but the practice was somewhat rarer in Atlas.

She returned to the desk and pried the seal off of the envelope, taking care not to damage it in case she needed to identify it later. It contained two items: a large, ornate card printed in in same bold colors as the envelope, and a smaller slip of paper covered with elegant handwriting.

Winter’s eyes were drawn to the card first. She read it over once, then blinked, and read it again. It was an invitation to a party. She hadn’t received something like this in years, not since school at least. Winter had never had much in the way of social graces in spite of her parents’ best efforts, and ever since she’d enlisted she had no time for such things. Not to mention, at least according to the bold text on the front, this wasn’t just any party. The invitation proudly announced that she had the honor of being allowed to attend an event that would “change Atlas for the better” alongside “the kingdom’s best and brightest.” She checked the back, which listed details such as the time, date, and address, but there was no name to indicate exactly who was hosting the event.

The smaller page, thankfully, had answers, even if they were far from satisfying. “ _Dear Winter_ ,” the sender had written, “ _I am sure this letter comes as a surprise to you, but I simply couldn’t resist inviting you to my home for this occasion. I know it’s been a long time since we spoke but I’ve been dying to reconnect for some time, and I would be ever so grateful if you could find some time in your understandably busy schedule to attend! I look forward to seeing you again. Love, Dawn Lumina_.”

Winter was immediately suspicious. She remembered Dawn Lumina, of course, but “a long time” was a bit of an understatement. They’d met when they were children, a natural side effect of their fathers’ frequent meetings, but Winter had never really been friends with the older girl or even her brother Draco, who had been closer to her in age. It wasn’t that Dawn hadn’t been friendly, but she’d had a bit too much energy for Winter to keep up with. Winter must have been twelve or thirteen the last time they’d seen each other. Yet here she was, writing like an old friend who’d only been away for the summer.

And what was all this talk about “changing Atlas?” Winter hadn’t kept track of Dawn’s politics, but she knew that something had soured her to General Ironwood. Of course, the election for Willows’ replacement was coming up, wasn’t it? Was she endorsing someone? Winter picked up her scroll and made a quick search to see if any of the parties had chosen their candidates.

A dozen headlines popped up at her immediately. Most of them were idle speculation with little actual information, but as she scanned the commentators’ lists of potential candidates the name caught her eye. “Huntress and heiress Dawn Lumina,” the article announced, “is rumored to be a possible candidate for the reform party.” The article went on to dismiss this rumor, pointing out that Lumina’s age and inexperience would make her a poor choice, but the letter was right there on Winter’s desk. The timing couldn’t be coincidental, could it? The General needed to see the letter, that much was certain.

_James_

The Atlas Academy training rooms were one of the school’s greatest feats of engineering. Using similar, though less advanced, technology to Amity Arena’s biome system they were able to be shaped into a variety of structures, obstacles, platforms, and hazards, which allowed the academy to train students in scenarios which other schools relied on dangerous and expensive field excursions to provide. Today, however, James had set Training Room 6 to its default setting, turning it into an open, cube-shaped chamber without any such complications.

Xanthe was still wearing her armor when she arrived, which James supposed was only fair, given how much of his body was already metal. She wordlessly laid her enormous longbow against the wall and then raised her fists. “Ready on your mark, sir.”

James couldn’t help but smile. “Three... two... mark!” He charged forward, intending to ram her with his shoulder, but she saw it coming and ducked to the side, elbowing him in the stomach as he barreled past her. He stumbled only briefly, and then spun around to face her. “Have you found any leads on our potential traitor?”

She swung a fist at his head, which he blocked with his left hand. She staggered as he used the opening to lay a blow onto her chest with his metal fist. “Yes sir,” she managed. “We have two suspects...” She continued to throw punches, a couple of which even got through his guard. “A pair of technicians, Rosen Cranston and Sterling Gillen, were absent from their posts at the time of the attack. We’re looking into them.”

He grabbed her forearms and tried to wrestle her to the ground, but his mass advantage over her wasn’t enough and she held firm. “Excellent work. Do they know we’re onto them?”

She tried to knee him in the abdomen, but it only hit metal. She winced, but as he tried to take advantage of the opening she caught him across his left ear. “Not yet, but I suggest taking them into custody just in case they realize and decide to flee.”

She was favoring his left side, he realized, rather than try to go up against the metal on the right. Clever, even while sleep-deprived. He twisted away from her next strike, then launched himself at her, pushing her back. “You have my permission to do so.”

“Thank you, sir.” She grabbed him under the right shoulder and used his momentum to throw him to the floor. “I have an additional request.”

James flipped back onto his feet. She tried to hit him again but she was slowing down and she only hit air. “What do you need,” he asked.

“I want to let Pietro Polendina in on the inquiries.” She charged towards him but stumbled, gasping for breath. Two nights of missed sleep were taking their toll. “I... believe... we may... need to crack open... one of the affected androids. Examine its code. Corwin checked him out, we’re certain he couldn’t have been involved in any betrayal.” She swung at him again, but this time he caught her by the arm, pulling her into a lock.

“Pietro’s a busy man,” he said. “He’s already working on two top-secret projects, not to mention touching up Amity Arena and the work he does in Mantle.” She tried to break free of his grip but his metal arm held firm. After a few seconds she stopped struggling and raised her hand to signal surrender. He released her and she half-collapsed onto one knee.

“This should only take a couple of hours,” she panted, “and he’s the only person I trust who knows enough about the code to spot anything wrong with it.”

She made a good point, and he knew what Pietro would tell him if he had any say in it. The old man was as industrious as his machines. “Alright,” he said. “I authorize you to ask for his support.”

Slowly, her legs shaking from the effort, she made it up to both feet. “Thank you, sir. May I be candid for a moment?”

He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but he felt she’d earned it. “You may.”

“You seem to be experiencing a large amount of stress.”

James almost laughed. “Says the woman who hasn’t slept in thirty hours.”

“I was a teacher for three years, I’m used to it.”

This time he actually did chuckle. “It is strange, isn’t it? You’re a teacher who ended up as a soldier, and I’m a soldier who ended up as a teacher. I always meant to ask, Xanthe, whydid you join the Special Operations unit instead of applying to be a professor at Atlas Academy? From what I’ve been told you were one of the best instructors at Sanctum.”

She averted her gaze. “There were some unexpected complications,” she said. “I determined that I wasn’t sufficiently prepared for teaching as a profession.

“What do you mean by that?” Both her performance in the field and the keenness of her mind seemed more than up to the task of teaching basic combat tactics to teenagers, and he imagined her semblance made her perfect for the job.

Xanthe pressed her knuckles up to the bridge of her nose. “I wasn’t capable of dealing with the emotional complications. I got too attached, and I made some mistakes because of it.”

Ah, that he could understand. James tried to remain detached as both a headmaster and a commander, but he hadn’t always succeeded on either. It was dangerous to care too much in this line of work, and it often ended in heartbreak or worse.

“There was this girl,” Xanthe continued, “probably the best student I ever had. But she was hurting in a way that I couldn’t help and it was too painful for me. She kept putting everyone else’s burdens onto herself, but never thought about what she needed from others.”

“An admirable quality.”

She shook her head. “For a soldier, perhaps, but not for a child. I could tell that it was killing her inside, but I just couldn’t get through to her. And I realized that while I was trying to help her I was neglecting my other students. That was when I knew that it wasn’t the right career for me, at least not at this time.”

“So you flew across an ocean to join the military?” That was a very small reason to make such a huge change in her life.

She shrugged. “It seemed like the place my skills would be most useful.”

He suspected she wasn’t telling him everything, but decided to leave it at that. “Well, we’re glad to have you here. But right now, Xanthe, you should get some sleep.”

“Yes sir.” She slung her bow over her shoulder, then departed.

Xanthe’s heavy footsteps faded into the distance only to be immediately replaced with the hurried clatter of high heels against the floor.

Winter looked like her night had only been slightly more restful than Xanthe’s. Her hair had been hastily tied up in a loose approximation of her usual neat bun, and her coat looked somewhat wrinkled, but she was still making a heroic attempt to project her usual air of grace and authority. Before he could say anything, she thrust an ornate letter into his hands. “Sir,” she said, “you’ll want to see this.”

His pulse quickened as he saw the sender’s signature. Lumina. As he read through it, Winter explained exactly what had happened. “If she is running,” she added, “I suspect this party is when she plans to announce it.”

“She is running,” James told her, “we’re sure of it. Councilman Lane visited her last night. But why would she send an invitation to someone who works for her political enemies?”

“It could be genuine. We did know each other many years ago.”

“Or it could be a ploy to get information out of you.” Still, two could play at that game. Winter was well-trained, disciplined, and perceptive. He trusted her not to give anything away, but perhaps Lumina or one of her allies might let something slip. “You’re going to attend,” he decided.

“But sir,” Winter protested, “the investigation into Councilman Willows’ death-“

“-can take a night off. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. If it’s a trick, we can turn it against her, and she really does want to reconnect, we should take advantage of it.”

“As you wish, sir. I would like to point out that the invitation does include a plus one. Perhaps you-”

“If you showed up with me, or any other member of the military for that matter, in tow it would just put her on her guard. Why don’t you invite your sister?” The girl had always been eager to tag along with Winter whenever she had the opportunity, and it would add legitimacy to bring family along.

“She’s in Vale, sir. Attending Beacon.”

“Isn’t she only fourteen?”

“Seventeen, sir.”

“Then...” he tried to think of someone else, hopefully quickly enough to distract himself from the rate of the passing years. “What about that huntress you’ve been working with on the Willows case? Moreau, right? Take her along.”

He could swear he heard Winter curse under her breath, but if she had any objection she kept it hidden. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a departure from the previous format, switching between two perspectives throughout a chapter. Next chapter will be similar; it was originally intended to be three entire chapters but that felt like dragging things on for too long, so it's gonna be a single long chapter with three perspectives, including your first look into Iris's thoughts.


	7. Friends New and Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the investigation losing steam, Winter and Iris take the night off to attend the party which will announce the Reform Party's candidate for the Council. As Winter reunites with an old friend and Iris makes some new ones, Robyn learns more about the woman her party has chosen as its representative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the original document over 22 pages long, this is by far the longest chapter I've written for this story thus far. Since I've been planning this one for quite some time, I think it ended up flowing pretty well, though at times I was tempted to split it in two. In the end I'm glad I kept it as one chapter, since I think the general pacing of the scenes ended up working quite well. This chapter introduces quite a few characters; a few original ones and a couple of canon characters. Most notably this is finally the debut of Nerina Pontus, a character who I've been fleshing out for around six years now.

Chapter Seven

**Friends New and Old**

_Winter_

Winter had been prepared for the worst when she’d invited Iris to attend the party with her, so she was surprised when the younger woman arrived not in her usual… Winter didn’t want to use the word “armor”… but an elegant white dress decorated with intricate patterns of colorful sequins. Much like the swirling designs on her usual outfit they transitioned subtly from deep violet around her ankles to a fiery orange at her shoulders, creating an iridescent effect that Winter found garish but which she knew the kinds of people at a party like this would love.

Iris must have seen her examining the dress because she twirled around to show it off. “Pretty great, right? It cost, like, a whole month’s paycheck but it’s not every day you get invited to a party hosted by the two hottest people in Atlas so I decided to treat myself.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Hottest people in Atlas?”

“Er, no offense, Winter, you’re easily in the top ten but come on, I’ve had a crush on Emilio since his boy band days and Dawn is a total smoke-show.”

This was not a conversation Winter had _any_ desire to continue, so she did her best to veer the topic to something a little more comfortable. “Do you remember what I told you yesterday?” She’d had to give Iris a quick lesson on formal etiquette, for fear of causing too much of a scene.

“Stop tapping your spoons together!”

“N-no, the other thing.”

“Respect people’s personal space?”

“Precisely. Polite, firm handshakes should be your _only_ physical contact. No hugs, no high-fives, and absolutely no fist-bumping.”

Iris gave her a bow so exaggerated that Winter was sure she’d trip over her own dress. “I shall do as m’lady doth command.”

“Nobody speaks like that.”

“Oh, you absolutely do.” Iris flashed a teasing smile and then danced over to the limousine that General Ironwood had provided for them. “Come on, let’s get going!"

By the time they arrived at the Lumina Estate, the mansion was already filled with people. The guests were arrayed in the kind of formal wear that Winter had come to expect from such functions, ranging from simple tailored suits to elaborate ballgowns and even a uniform or two, but these were hardly the stuffy businessmen who populated her father’s galas. She did notice a few familiar faces among the crowds, but many of the guests were recognizable only from their appearances on movie posters and magazine covers. These were Atlas’s stars, not its puppet masters.

The moment they were through the doors, Winter snapped her fingers in front of Iris’s face in order to get her attention. “Listen to me: stay close to me and don’t do anything stupid. This many celebrities means that the press will be swarming all over this place and I do not want to wake up tomorrow to find us on the front page of a tabloid.”

“Can do,” Iris said. “But also, there’s one of those chocolate fountains and I have always wanted to be at a party with one of those so can we stick together in _that_ direction?”

Winter couldn’t think of anything better to do, so she followed Iris to the dessert barand tried to survey the room to make certain that none of her father’s henchmen were present. Admittedly, it was more than likely that her father would be supporting the Military Party in the election, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d managed to worm his way into a gathering of so many famous people. She thought she recognized a banker who’d done business with him back in her youth, but thankfully she saw no one who actually worked for the Schnee Dust Company. She’d almost begun to let her guard down when she spotted someone who she _definitely_ recognized sulking in the hallway.

She stormed her way through the crowd to confront him. “Amin,” she barked, “what are you doing here?”

Marrow Amin practically jumped into the air at her appearance, but quickly did his best to compose himself. “I might ask the same of you,” he shot back. His tone was defiant, but Winter noticed that he’d tucked his canine tail between his legs.

“I’m…” she checked to make sure no one was listening, and then muttered “here on the General’s orders.”

He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but apparently thought better of whatever comment he’d been about to make and leaned back against the wall. “And I’m here with a friend.”

“A friend?”

“You do know what friends are, right Schnee? I know you’ve got this whole ‘sullen loner’ thing going on but-“

“You need to learn to watch your tone around your superiors, Amin.”

He shut his mouth, obviously realizing he’d overstepped his bounds. Impressively, though, he stood his ground. “I mean, we’re both Special Operatives. I know you’re all buddy-buddy with the General now but we _are_ the same rank.”

He was right, on a technicality. Winter had seniority but that didn’t actually come with authority. “Fine,” she said, “I simply didn’t think that people like you frequented these circles.”

“People like me, huh?” He clicked his tongue. “I mean, you’re right, this isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but this is a special occasion.”

Winter was going to inquire further but the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and a delighted cry of “Winter!” turned her attention away. The hostess had arrived.

Winter may not have seen Dawn face-to-face in over a decade, but even if she hadn’t gone over photographs to prepare for tonight she would have recognized her instantly. It was those eyes, really; They were almond-shaped, and a shade of gold which always seemed to catch the light so that they shimmered and sparkled in a way that didn’t quite look natural. Her crimson hair was pulled up into a bun, with a few loose strands combed to the side. Her dress was far more ornate than those worn by most of the guests, shaped almost like a pink flower that faded to white towards her legs. “Mrs. Lumina,” Winter called over to her, “it is good to see you again.”

“Wait,” Marrow whispered, “you two know each other?”

Winter hesitated. “It’s… been a long time.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I should let you two catch up, then.” Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

Dawn waved for Winter to follow her and, seeing no other option, she did so. “So,” Dawn said casually as they walked, “how goes the investigation?”

Winter nearly stopped cold. “How… how did you know?” Her involvement in the investigation into Councilman Willows’ death was supposed to be top secret.

“Well, I wasn’t sure until just now, but it was an easy deduction to make.” She looked like she was about to elaborate but at that moment they arrived in a large parlor. “Business can wait,” she declared, “I have some people who’d just love to meet you!”

Winter was led over to a circle of couches, where several well-dressed individuals had gathered. She recognized Councilman Lane, whose old-fashioned ceremonial uniform stood out even more than his advanced age. “Councilman,” she saluted, “and would you introduce me to the others?”

Dawn laughed. “Why Winter,” she said, gesturing to a slim young man with slicked-back crimson hair quite similar to her own, “I can’t believe you’d forget my dear brother.”

“Come now, Dawn,” he said, “I was barely ten the last time we met, I don’t blame her for not recognizing me at first glance.” He certainly looked different than Winter remembered. The Draco Lumina in her mind was a chubby little boy with a dislike of sharing his toys. Now he was tall, handsome, and immaculately dressed in a suit that was as red as his hair.

“And this,” Dawn continued, gliding over to a strikingly attractive man with pale blonde hair and dark bronze skin, “is my darling husband, Emilio.” She planted a kiss on his cheek.

Winter knew that Dawn was married to some big movie star, but she didn’t know his face. Movies had been an escape from home back in the day, but ever since she made it into Atlas Academy she’d never felt the need. Still, when he stepped forward and smiled at her she could practically feel the charisma that must have made him such a big name. “It’s good to meet you,” he said.

She shook his hand. “Likewise.”

The introductions carried on for several more minutes as Dawn introduced her to actors, bankers, and politicians of all stripes, until Winter’s hand began to feel numb from all the shaking. “Now that we’re all acquainted,” Dawn said, “please do tell us all about what it’s like being one of James’s tin soldiers. It’s not very often that I get to pick the brain of someone of your rank.”

Winter wondered if she’d even noticed Marrow back in the hallway. She tried to think of what to say, but there was something itching at the back of her mind, like she’d forgotten to turn off the stove. “I mean,” she managed, “it’s difficult work, of course. But the rewards of service—”

She was cut off by the thudding of footsteps as a tall, lean man stormed into the room, muttering to himself. His body language was hostile, there was no doubt about it, but he seemed to be laughing under his breath. There was, Winter noticed, a large dollop of vanilla frosting slowly making its way down his nose. He marched past them, his long dark braid whipping behind him, and then after a few seconds they heard the front door slam.

It was Dawn who broke the bewildered silence. “I wonder what that was all about?”

The party shrugged and echoed her question, but it was slowly dawning on Winter what had been feeling so wrong for the past twenty minutes.

_Where was Iris?_

_Iris_

“Alright,” Iris said, surveying the teetering pile of pastries, cookies, and chocolate-covered strawberries which balanced precariously on her plate, “I think I’m all set for dinner.” She turned, expecting to get a good laugh out of Winter’s disapproving scowl… but Winter wasn’t there. Huh. That was weird.

She scanned the room, looking for any sign of her companion, but she saw nothing, not even a hint of a uniform. Winter had said to stay by her side, but she hadn’t said anything about what to do if _she_ left. Iris tried to run over the options in her head, but kept circling back to this same conundrum. She was out of her element, and now the person she’d been relying on to show her what to do was gone, so what now?

“Excuse me,” a young man with blue hair called out, “other people want some scones too.”

Iris blinked. She was still standing in front of the dessert bar, and must’ve been there for at least a couple minutes. “Sorry,” she said, and darted to the side so that he could get to the pastries. Her dessert plate wobbled ominously as she moved, and she had to stabilize it with one hand before some supermodel’s clothing was decorated with chocolate fondue. She pushed through the party guests, calling out Winter’s name.

“Hey,” she asked a couple, “have you seen my friend? White hair, about this tall, kinda grouchy?” When they answered in the negative she sighed and continued her search. _If I was an uptight ex-heiress_ , she wondered, _where would I be?_ Maybe there was a ballroom? Iris had no idea how these super-rich people lived, but that sounded like the kind of fancy place that Winter would like. Why were they called “balls”, anyway? She supposed some of the old dresses they used to make women wear were pretty round, but not exactly spherical.

She was so lost in thought that she nearly slammed straight into a tall man in a long dark coat. She swerved, but by the time she remembered the plate of food she was holding it was all she could do to dive after it. She landed on her chest, knocking the wind out of her, but to her relief most of the desserts were still intact, and more importantly she hadn’t broken the fancy platter. The half a dozen guests standing in the hallway she’d found herself in were staring at her, so she gave them a thumbs up. “It’s all good!”

Most of them decided not to pay her any more mind, but she could swear she’d heard a muffled giggle coming from under a nearby table. After picking up a few pieces of scattered food she set down what was left of her snacks and then lifted the tablecloth, revealing the startled face of a young girl.

She was maybe six years old, with bronze-colored skin and pink hair, and she wore a set of magenta and saffron pajamas that looked like they cost more than Iris’s entire regular wardrobe put together. Iris grinned and lifted a finger to her lips. “Out past bedtime?” she whispered. “Been there.”

The girl narrowed her shining, gold eyes, as if trying to decide if Iris was trustworthy. Gold eyes… Iris began to put the pieces together. She’d only seen Dawn Lumina’s face in magazine photographs, but she’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“So what’s the plan, kid? Sneak into mom’s big party and then what?”

The kid tried to keep her cool, but her eyes darted over to the tall man who Iris had nearly collided with. Iris took another look and then saw it. A simple trick, and one she’d employed many times in her youth, but brilliantly executed. “Nice work,” she said, “game recognizes game.” The girl giggled again.

At that moment, the man seemed to finish his conversation and took a step forward, or rather attempted to do so. As he lifted his foot, his shoelaces pulled taut. The knot the kid had tied to bind them together held firm, and he toppled forward, as luck would have it, face-first into a cupcake that Iris had missed when cleaning up the spilled desserts.

The girl burst into laughter and Iris couldn’t help but join her. The other guests spent a moment in shocked silence before they too began to chuckle. The unlucky victim, however, was not so amused.

The man’s yellow eyes narrowed as he pulled himself to his feet, vanilla frosting still clinging to his nose. “You wretched little brat,” he snarled, and lunged forward, snapping the tied-up laces apart with shocking force. Before Iris could react he had the kid by her collar and lifted her into the air as she shrieked. “You know,” his grimace turned into an unnervingly wide grin, “I know ways of disciplining vexing little imps like you.”

Iris caught a twitch of movement under his coat, just above his hip. Was he armed? She’d left her own weapon, Revolving Prism, back on her ship, but she wasn’t going to stand idly by if he tried to hurt her. Not only was she philosophically opposed to hurting children, but she felt it was a point of honor not to let a fellow prankster come to harm in her presence.

Before it could come to that, however, a shadow fell over the man. He and Iris turned in tandem to meet the gaze of the tallest woman that Iris had ever seen. Standing at least seven and a half feet tall and dressed in a tailored navy blue suit, with ten slits along her pale throat which resembled the gills of a shark, she managed to be remarkably intimidating —and, Iris noted, quite attractive— despite the fact that she didn’t look any older than Iris. In fact, looking closer, Iris thought she might even be a year or two younger.

“Put her down,” the woman commanded. If her tone didn’t supply the “or else” for her, her clenched fists certainly did.

The man looked like he was about to argue or worse, strike at the woman, but then nodded and dropped the girl to the floor. “My sincerest apologies,” he said, bowing deeply in that theatrical fashion normally reserved for stage actors and people trying to irritate tightly-wound huntresses, “my temper seems to have gotten the better of me.” He chuckled under his breath, though Iris couldn’t tell if he was amused or simply nervous.

The woman’s glare remained fixed on him. “Leave, now.”

He smirked. “Very well, this has been a rather dull affair regardless.” He twirled like a dancer and strode off towards the front door, laughing to himself.

As soon as he was out of sight, the woman’s expression softened and she immediately bent down to scoop up the shaking girl. “Zora,” she chided softly, “you’re supposed to be in bed.”

Zora raised an eyebrow, challenging the woman to explain how that was supposed to be her problem. “Didn’t like him.” The kid was holding up remarkably well given how badly she’d been manhandled.

“No kidding,” Iris interjected, “I was scared I was gonna have to fight that guy. I did _not_ have a good feeling about him.”

The woman nodded, though she didn’t turn to look at her. “I haven’t seen him at any of Mrs. Lumina’s parties before,” she said.

“You come to these often?”

She blushed. “I… um, I live here, actually. I take care of this little caterpillar since her parents are so busy.” Zora giggled as Nerina bounced her in her arms.

“You’re a nanny?” Iris would _not_ have guessed that based on her physique.

“I think I’m technically a governess, but to be entirely honest I don’t quite understand the difference. Oh, I forgot, I’m Nerina.”

“You forgot to _say_ that you were Nerina or you forgot that you _were_ Nerina?”

“I… er… what?” Her face flushed red again.

Iris laughed. “Relax, I’m messing with you. Well, actually I’m Iris.” Winter probably would’ve hit her for that joke, but Nerina actually giggled. It was high pitched and girlish, not at all the kind of laugh one would expect from a person of her size.

“So,” she asked, “are you one of Emilio’s friends?”

“Hah, I wish. Nah, I’m a plus one. I’m here with Winter Schnee, apparently she knew Dawn when they were kids.”

Nerina suddenly looked nervous, obviously recognizing Winter’s name. “You’re a soldier?”

“Just a huntress. I’m usually a courier, actually.”

Nerina’s eyes darted from side to side as she tried to make sense of that. It was a common response. “You… deliver mail?”

“Well,” Iris said with the steady tone of someone who’d had this conversation dozens of times, “packages and supplies, mostly. A lot of villages outside of the Kingdoms need stuff they can’t get for themselves, and since there’s a lot of grimm out there local governments pay a lot of money for someone skilled enough to make deliveries consistently.”

“Sounds exciting.” There was a wistfulness to the way she said it. Lots of civilians romanticized the lives of huntsmen and huntresses, but Iris could tell there was more to this than the idle fantasies of a bored young woman.

She tried to figure out a way to broach the topic gently. “You’re.. in-shape. Have you considered attending a combat academy?”

Nerina’s right hand jerked up to her neck, as if by reflex. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.” So that was a yes.

Thankfully, the uncomfortable silence was broken by a young faunus man in an Atlesian uniform. “Mind if I drop in?”

Nerina’s frown vanished. “Marrow! I was worried you wouldn’t make it!”

“Well, my CO gave me permission to take the night off, though I didn’t get off without a light scolding from the Ice Queen. Speaking of whom,” he said turning to Iris, “you’re that civilian who’s been following her around like a lost puppy, right?”

Iris gave a faux-offended gasp. “Civilian? I’ll have you know I’m a licensed graduate of Haven Academy!”

He shrugged. “And in this kingdom that makes you a civilian.”

That didn’t seem entirely fair but Iris had better things to do than to argue. She wasn’t exactly sure what those things were, but she’d burn that bridge when she came to it.

“I should probably get Zora to bed,” Nerina said.

Iris took a look at the girl, who had passed out in Nerina’s arms in a dramatic pose that resembled a swooning damsel from an old black and white movie. “Is she really asleep?”

Nerina peered closer at Zora. “Looks like. I’ve learned to tell when she’s faking.”

“We’ll catch you later, then?”

“I don’t know,” Nerina said. Her hand was twitching now, rhythmically clapping her fingers against her palm. It was cute, but Iris could tell she was getting uncomfortable. “I’m not really… great with parties. Or lots of people in general. I’m mostly here for the big speech.”

Marrow put his hand as close to her shoulder as he could reach without straining. “Hey, if you’re having a hard time in here, we’ll wait out on the balcony.”

She took a few deep breaths, then nodded. “Okay… okay. I’ll, er, see you there.”

_Winter_

“I really should go,” Winter protested. Dawn had pulled her away from the group, leading her through the mansion’s labyrinthine interior until they came to an unoccupied patio.

She waved her concern away. “Oh, it’ll be fine, darling. Trust me, this is a minor incident in the grand scheme of things. Besides, I was hoping we could have a more personal talk.”

“About… what?”

“About you, dear! To be entirely honest, I’m _fascinated_ by you.”

Winter hadn’t even thought about Dawn in years, but she sensed it would be impolite to say it. “Is that so?”

“It’s just… no offense, but I cannot understand you. You spent half your life under the thumb of that awful father of yours, and now, after you’ve finally gotten away from him, you’ve just handed over the agency you earned to another patriarch. I just don’t get it.”

Her cheeks grew warm. Did she mean General Ironwood? She respected him a great deal, of course, but she wouldn’t call him a father figure. “I’m not sure what you’re implying about my relationship with the General,” she said, “but it’s entirely professional.”

Dawn smirked. “I see. But what I mean is that you won your freedom. After all those years of being controlled, you were your own woman. So why lose that?”

“I haven’t lost anything,” Winter protested. “I’ve chosen my path, on my terms.”

“And that’s exactly it!” Dawn threw up her hands. “You _chose_ to give up your ability to choose! That doesn’t strike you as strange?”

Winter wasn’t sure what she meant. “I’m a huntress. I’ve decided to dedicate my life to defending this kingdom. How is that any different from what you’re doing now? If you win this Council seat you’ll be every bit as much of a servant to Atlas as I am.”

Dawn raised an eyebrow and Winter realized she’d just admitted that she, and by extension the General, knew about her plans to run for the Council. So much for subtlety. But Dawn seemed to shrug it off, and continued on. “How can you be sure? Are you really serving Atlas? Or are you serving _him_?”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a world of difference, dear, and unlike my unfortunate predecessor I have no intention of being James’s toady. I’d suggest you think long and hard about what you actually want, Winter. I wouldn’t want you ending up as just another one of his machines. But,” she said, suddenly pivoting back to her usual casual tone, “speaking of dear departed Tad, you never got the chance to tell me about the investigation. How’s that been going for you?” Ah. So that was the real reason she’d been so insistent on getting away from the others.

“We’ve stalled,” she admitted against her better judgement. “We’ve got several leads but nothing has gotten us very far.” She didn’t go into any details, and was _definitely_ not going to mention the two technicians General Ironwood was holding in custody due to circumstantial evidence. She could easily imagine that being twisted out of context.

“You know,” Dawn said, “I participated in my fair share of investigations during my time in Mistral. Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

“I’m afraid I can’t give away classified details to a civilian.”

Dawn chuckled at that. “Let me just give some more… general advice, then. When I needed to find a suspect, the first question I had to ask was, ‘who stands to gain from this?’. So, who benefits most from the Councilman’s death?”

Winter thought about that for a moment. “Well, honestly… you.”

“Congratulations,” Dawn laughed and raised her hands in mock surrender, “you caught me, detective. But seriously, I’m talking about a close connection. In my experience political assassinations are never this quiet, so I’d bet it was something personal. Most murders are, really.”

The police had checked Willows’ friends and family first, of course, but they’d all come up clean. Besides, she had her suspicions that whoever had killed the Councilman was a professional. They’d covered their tracks too well for this to be a crime of passion, and there was still the matter of Willows’ bodyguard. Whoever had killed him was trained, experienced, and deadly. But all that was, of course, classified. She probably shouldn’t have said as much as she already had on the subject. “We’re quite certain that our current leads will get us somewhere,” she said carefully. “We just need to find the right thread.”

“Of course,” Dawn said. “You are the specialist, after all. I’m sure you have it all under control.” She shrugged. “Well, as much as I’d love to continue this talk, I do have a speech to prepare for. I hope to see you there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Winter, who would rather do nearly anything else.

_Iris_

“So,” Iris prodded once Marrow led her out to the balcony, “are you and Nerina…” She couldn’t blame her if there was something between them, he was definitely cute.

“What? Oh, no, we’re just friends,” he clarified. “I’m, uh, not really her type.”

Well that was interesting, but Iris was too curious to dwell on it. “How do you know each other?” Iris was sure it wasn’t a coincidence that Nerina just happened to be friends with an Atlesian special operative. She knew she probably shouldn’t pry, but she was too inquisitive for her own good. If she didn’t figure this out then she’d never get over it.

Marrow looked away. “Let’s just say I owe her one.”

“Oh, sorta like me and Winter. I saved her life a few months ago, so now she _has_ to tolerate me!”

“Yeah, except Winter doesn’t have any friends.”

“That’s not true,” Iris said, “we’re totally friends! She just doesn’t know it yet!”

“Uh huh.” Marrow looked unconvinced. “Look, kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Schnee’s got a heart of ice. I’m pretty sure the only time she ever smiles is when she’s hurting someone.”

“Well, first of all, I’m like two years younger than you at most and secondly I’ve definitely seen her smile.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really!”

“Name one time.”

Iris thought back to when she’d arrived in Atlas last week. It had been subtle, but Winter had definitely smiled when Iris had given her that letter. Was that too private to share? Iris tried to put herself in Winter’s shoes. What would she feel if someone shared something about her… her sister…

“Hey,” Marrow was looking worried, “are you okay? You’re breathing kinda hard.”

Iris blinked. “Yeah,” she lied, “I’m fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okaaay…” They both stood in silence for several seconds. “What should we talk about?”

“I don’t know, I was hoping you would—”

“Well I don’t know either! I’m not used to being put on the spot like this!”

There was a laugh from behind Iris. “Wow, and I thought I stood out here.” The speaker was definitely right about standing out. She was tall, her clothes were worn and rugged, and she was absolutely gorgeous. “Glad to see you making friends, Wags.”

Marrows eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Robyn?”

“Honestly, I just needed some space. It was getting hard to resist punching some of the people in there.”

“Well, I’m glad you aren’t causing a scene this time.”

Iris stepped between them. “Uh, hi. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“This,” Marrow said, “is Robyn Hill, Atlas’s number one troublemaker.”

Robyn smirked. “Thanks, that means a lot. So, what’s your deal, Sparkles?”

Iris looked around before realizing she was talking to her. “Oh, I’m Iris! I’m just helping the military out with some stuff. Ya know, super-secret classified things.”

“You’re not from Atlas,” Robyn said, “are you?”

“How could you tell?”

“Well, for starters I don’t think anyone from here would say they were ‘just helping out’. It’s always about ‘duty’ or ‘service’ or some other buzzword you can fit on a recruitment poster.”

“Hey,” Marrow butted in, “just because some of us have a sense of civic responsibility—”

“Oh, ‘civic responsibility,’ that’s a good one. I’m writing that down. Anyway, Sparkles, let me give you a word of advice. Don’t buy into any of it. It’s all about controlling people, turning them into obedient little soldiers willing to go out and die so that people like this,” she gestured at the mansion, “can live like royalty.”

Iris was no stranger to inequality. There were still places back home in Mistral which refused service to faunus, and even with her middle-class upbringing Iris had never been allowed to forget the “superiority” of the old noble houses over immigrant families like her own. Still, she had a hard time believing that people like Marrow or even Winter would willingly sign up for something as bad as what Robyn was describing. “It can’t be that bad,” she said.

“It’s not,” Marrow said. “She’s just being contrary, as usual. Sure, things could be better, but the military is here to defend the kingdom and its people.”

“Really?” Robyn’s gaze drifted up and over Marrow’s shoulder. “Try telling her that.”

They looked back to see Nerina awkwardly trying to fit into the doorway to the balcony. After banging her head on the frame a couple of times, the towering woman was forced to lean down just to get through. “Hello,” she waved when she saw them looking at her, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Marrow said. “Miss Hill here was just leaving.”

Robyn shrugged. “Fine by me.” She pushed past them and disappeared back into the building.

Nerina watched her go. “I’m a little confused,” she admitted.

“Really,” Marrow said, “it’s nothing. How’re you holding up?”

“Better than expected,” she said.

Now it was Iris’s turn to be confused. “Is something wrong?”

Nerina held her fist up to her mouth. “I… have a hard time with large crowds. It’s too much…” she waved her hand as if trying to grab the words from the air. “You know, information. It sort of scrambles my thoughts up.”

Iris knew how that felt. She’d always had trouble focusing on one thing when it felt like everything was happening at once. It could be downright paralyzing. “I think I know what you mean,” she said. “That’s one of the perks of my job, really. I get hours of just me, my ship, and the open sky. No distractions for miles.”

Nerina perked up. “You fly?”

Iris couldn’t stop herself from smirking. “Oh, you have no idea. Check this out.” Before either of them could say anything she vaulted up onto the balcony’s railing, crossed her arms over her chest, and dropped backwards over the edge as Marrow and Nerina shouted in alarm. It was, in hindsight, a little stupid, but the reaction was worth it. As soon as she began to feel gravity’s pull, she closed her eyes and pictured the open sky, with nothing but clouds on all sides. She twisted in the air as she dove towards the lawn below, and then with one deep breath projected her semblance. Wings of scintillating light extended from her back, catching the currents in the air and turning her dive into a low glide above the ground.

Iris’s blood was thrumming in her veins, and she felt that familiar pull on her skull from the sudden acceleration. She couldn’t help but grin as she pulled up, soaring over in a wide arc as she turned around and drifted back onto the balcony’s railing.

Nerina’s jaw was hanging open, and while Marrow was doing his best to look coolly disinterested Iris could see his tail wagging in excitement. She bowed to them. “Pretty neat, huh?”

Nerina flapped her hands excitedly. “That was amazing!”

“It was alright,” Marrow muttered. “My semblance is pretty cool too.”

“What about you?” Iris asked Nerina. “Have you unlocked your semblance?”

Nerina and Marrow met each other’s eyes. He cocked his head, and she nodded. “I have,” she said. So Iris’s hunch was right. Civilians almost never discovered how to access their semblances; it was a difficult process that required intense training, focus, and a bit of luck. Iris was burning to know more, but Nerina said nothing else. There was something that she didn’t want Iris to know, and while her curiosity was screaming at her to pry further, her better judgement prevailed. She’d pushed as far as she had any right to, at least for now.

The conversation drifted into more mundane fare after that, mostly gossip from Marrow about the various members of the Special Operatives unit. Apparently someone named Magnolia was secretly collecting and painting miniature figurines, and the leader of the Ace-Ops had won so many poker games against the Academy faculty that they’d banned him from game night.

Iris was in the middle of explaining the rules to a favorite childhood trading card game when Nerina’s scroll started to ring. “Oh no,” she exclaimed, “the speech is about to start!”

“That explains why everyone’s gathered out on the front lawn,” Iris noted.

“I need to go,” Nerina said, “I promised Dawn I would be there!”

Iris held out her hand. “Want a lift?”

“What?”

“I can get you down to the ground faster than a flight of stairs.” Iris was, admittedly, not sure how well she’d be able to fly with someone twice her size weighing her down, but it was only a thirty foot drop and maneuverability wasn’t much of a concern.

“Oh,” Nerina said, “I mean, if you think it would help…” In the dim light it was hard to say for sure, but Iris thought she saw her cheeks turn red.

Iris grinned and scooped her up in both hands. She was heavy, but Iris managed to channel her aura into a brief surge of strength as she manifested her wings at the same time. “Wish us luck,” she told Marrow as she jumped back onto the railing.

“This is stupid,” he said, but she ignored him and dove off the balcony.

The landing was, admittedly, not perfect. Iris had underestimated the unbalancing effect of carrying someone of Nerina’s size and pitched forward. For a brief moment she plummeted face-first towards the lawn below before her frantic flapping pulled them up and she found herself skidding on her butt for several feet. Someone was screaming, but Iris wasn’t sure if it was Nerina, herself, or maybe Marrow.

Thankfully, their bumpy landing had been out of sight of the crowd which had started to gather up front, but a couple of security guards ran over to investigate the noise.

“Is everything alright?” One of them asked as the two women got to their feet.

“Well,” Iris said, “I think my dress is ruined, but I don’t think anyone’s hurt.” In fact, she had somehow managed to keep Nerina entirely off the ground, and her suit was, at least as far as Iris could see in this light, nearly spotless.

“Sorry about that,” she said as the guards departed.

“It’s fine,” Nerina said shakily. “It was kind of fun. Sorry about your dress.”

“Eh,” Iris said, “it’s not like I was ever gonna find another time to wear it. Now let’s get going, I think the speech is starting.”

_Robyn_

Somehow an entire stage and podium had been placed up in front of the mansion’s front doors between the time that Robyn had arrived and when she and the other guests were ushered out onto the front lawn. While the others started jostling to get into the rows of chairs that had been set up, she stepped over to the front row, where Timur sat slumped in his seat.

“Hey old man,” she said, “you’d better not be dead. We’ve got enough to worry about with one open council seat.”

He blinked. “What? Oh, sorry Robyn.” He yawned. “It’s nearly eight o’ clock and I’m starting to doze off. Just pinch me if I start falling asleep.”

She smiled and sat down next to him. “So,” she said dryly, “looks like it’s time to see if we’ve made the right choice.”

“Please, Robyn, don’t get too enthusiastic. It’s not proper form.”

“And people wonder where I get my attitude problem,” she remarked.

“Oh, you had that long before we met.”

It took several minutes to get the crowd settled, and then it was showtime. Robyn was immediately worried that Lumina might’ve taken that word too literally though, given the immense spotlights which bathed the stage in light.

Lumina strode up to the podium, dressed now in a vest and skirt colored in Atlas’s traditional red, blue, and grey. She hadn’t missed the chance to add some extra flare, though, as her shimmering golden jewelry clearly indicated. The crowd cheered as she gave a bow, then motioned for them to be silent.

“It is no secret that Atlas is not in its greatest moment,” she began. “Our government claims to represent the people, but for years now we have lived under the iron grip of the military’s control. In any other kingdom, the idea of one man, let alone _half_ of a man, holding two council seats would seem absurd.” There were a few chuckles at that comment, though Robyn saw Winter Schnee ball her fists. “James Ironwood has controlled our kingdom’s highest assembly for years despite the fact that he has never even run for office. Now, for the first time in almost ten years, his grip is broken. The tragedy that befell Councilman Willows is lamentable, and I wish our soldiers every success in finding the people who committed this crime, but out of this strife comes a chance for a new Atlas and it is time to take a stand. And so, with the blessing of the Reform Party and its chief committee, I will be running to replace Councilman Willows as the representative of the Greater Atlas region.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts, and the security guards had to physically block the horde of reporters from storming the stage. Once things began to quiet down, Lumina continued, outlining her platform and ideals, though Robyn felt there was a bit too much in the way of style over substance. Lumina kept veering back to the topic of General Ironwood, painting him as the cause of the kingdom’s problems and ignoring, as so many did, the centuries of injustice which had preceded him. The audience was a little more enthusiastic, of course, and when she was finished they were applauding even louder than before.

Robyn was ready to leave, but as she turned to go Lumina glided out from the crowd to block her path. “So, what do you think?”

“It was certainly… evocative.”

Robyn’s tone wasn’t lost on the other woman. “You aren’t pleased.”

“Forgive me if I’m a little apprehensive about a candidate who seems more dedicated to spiting General Ironwood than to helping the people of Atlas.”

“It’s a campaign announcement,” Lumina said, “I’m not going to lead with policies and statistics. People need something to be excited about, and there’s nothing that does that better than a common enemy.” She paused, as if in thought. “Come with me, I want to show you something.” She turned and waltzed away before Robyn could even think to reply. Seeing no other choice, she followed.

They made their way through the thinning crowd, with Lumina occasionally stopping to smile for the cameras and politely decline attempts for interviews. Robyn was astonished by how naturally she maneuvered through this world of flashing lights and inquisitive strangers. Seven years of marriage to one of Atlas’s biggest stars must’ve accustomed her to it. For her part, Robyn awkwardly waved away the throng of reporters, wishing that the press cared this much about what she had to say at literally any other time.

After they finally broke away from the throng, Lumina led her further out across the lawn and away from the mansion. Robyn was starting to get nervous. Following a skilled huntress she still didn’t fully trust into the night was hardly an appealing prospect, but she reminded herself that there were too many cameras nearby for Lumina to try anything.

After several minutes they made it to the great steel and glass doors of the immense greenhouse which Robyn had seen during her first visit to the Lumina estate. Lumina held her scroll up to a small panel and the doors swung open, slow and silent. She gestured for Robyn to follow and stepped into what appeared to be a large airlock.

“What is this?” Robyn asked as she followed her inside.

“Just a precaution,” Lumina assured her. “The interior is climate controlled, not to mention the danger involved if something escaped.”

Escaped? Danger? Robyn was starting to have a bad feeling about this. As the doors closed behind them and a second set began to open, she unconsciously reached for her wrist. Her crossbow wasn’t there, of course, since even someone as brazen as Lumina wasn’t going to allow weapons into such a gathering.

A rush of warm, humid air hit Robyn like a crashing wave as it flooded into the chamber. Suddenly it was if she was no longer in Atlas at all, but a tropical rainforest like the kind found in southern Mistral. Birds and insects chirped in the trees, frogs croaked, and the distant sound of running water completed the effect. After a long time in stunned silence, she managed to speak. “What is this?”

“This,” Lumina said as she stepped into the jungle, “is Vacuo.”

Robyn blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Well, it’s what Vacuo used to be. My mother was an ecologist who specialized in the desertification of central Sanus, so my father decided, with his usual sense of subtlety, to give her this as a wedding gift. Her own miniature piece of a world that no longer exists.”

“I’ll admit,” Robyn said, “when I heard these gardens were a wedding gift I pictured them as just a superficial symbol of wealth.”

Lumina laughed “Oh, they were. I have no doubt that to dad it was yet another way to boost his own ego under the pretense of charity. But just because he thought of it that way doesn’t mean that’s all it is.”

Robyn couldn’t deny that. She gazed around her, watching the trees sway in an artificial breeze as bat-winged birds and multicolored squirrels darted above, briefly illuminated in the light of the moon. She wasn’t sure if it was beautiful or heartbreaking. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Well obviously,” Lumina said with a dazzling smile, “I lured you out here to kill you and hide the body where no one would find it.” Robyn started back in shock and she burst out laughing. “And here,” she managed to say between cackles, “I thought that Schnee was paranoid.”

“That was not funny,” Robyn snarled.

“It was a little funny.” Lumina took a deep breath and her face turned sober. “Really though, I brought you here because I want you to understand why I’m doing all this. I know you don’t trust me and I’ll be fair, I haven’t given you much reason to.” Lumina extended her right hand. “I hope I can change that.”

Now that was a surprise. Robyn hadn’t been blind to the way that Lumina had so quickly avoided shaking her hand when they first met, and had assumed that getting the truth out of her would be a long and difficult process. She nodded and took Lumina’s hand. An envelope of shimmering light surrounded both hands, startling away a small red-eyed monkey which had been perched on a nearby branch.

Lumina’s gold eyes shone with reflected light. “I’m not just doing this for revenge,” she said. “I’m doing it because I feel… because I _know_ that I have an obligation to change things. Look around, Robyn. The world that we’re standing in is gone. What the other kingdoms—what _Atlas_ did to Vacuo, it can’t be undone. You can’t put the moon back together and what is dead stays dead no matter how many memorials we build. I’m doing this because life has value, and not just the lives which men like Ironwood deem as important. The lives of every person living and breathing in this kingdom, they all matter.” She smiled. “And I will never forget that.”

Robyn could feel her heart beating in her chest. Once, twice, and then the light around their arms shifted into a soft emerald glow. She was telling the truth. She felt herself sigh in relief. “Alright,” she said,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Marrow proved to be a unique challenge for a couple reasons. The main one is that we haven't really seen Marrow interact with his peers in the show. While he's a member of the Ace Ops, it's clear in his interactions with them that his rookie status (and let's be honest, his Faunus heritage) keep him from being on even footing with them. Conversely, in his interactions with teams RWBY and JNR, he puts up a lot of bluster and faux-arrogance to try and make himself seem "too cool" for these kids. As such, writing Marrow interacting with friends while off-duty required a lot of inference on my part based on a few scenes like his interactions with Jaune in the montage and how he speaks to the Happy Huntresses during the election. 
> 
> Secondly, this is a Marrow who is a little over one year younger than the one we meet in Volume 7, and he has yet to join the Ace-Ops. As such, there is a lot that he has yet to learn, which I tried to show. He's a little more naive here than he is in V7, and hasn't quite learned when to keep his mouth shut.


	8. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Ironwood confers with Ozpin over recent events, Robyn learns of a new threat in Mantle, and Winter realizes that she's overlooked some important evidence.

_James_

Pointless. This was all pointless.

The cool light of the holo-screens only barely illuminated James’ office, casting long, flickering shadows across the floor. The central screen showed the faces of Professor Ozpin, the renowned headmaster of Beacon Academy, and Glynda Goodwitch, his second-in-command and the school’s combat instructor. To his right, another screen displayed the lean, unkempt visage of Qrow Branwen, while to the left were the faces of Professors Lionheart and Theodore, the headmasters of the other two academies.

“Things have been looking strange out here,” Qrow was saying. “Increased grimm attacks, whispers of trouble, that sort of thing.”

“Mistral is being Mistral,” Theodore said. “The day when there aren’t any shadowy conspiracies lurking in its back alleys is when we should really be concerned, right Leo?” Lionheart chuckled halfheartedly at the joke at his kingdom’s expense, as usual too spineless to stand up for himself. James had no idea how a man like him had even become a huntsman, let alone the headmaster of Haven Academy. 

“Grimm activity has increased across Remnant in the past few years,” Ozpin reminded them. “If there is trouble afoot, and there always is, then it’s not likely to be confined to a single kingdom.”

“I agree,” James said. “I know nobody wants to hear this, but it’s clear that she’s preparing for something big, and we can’t just sit here talking about it. Thankfully, I’ve been preparing for just this situation.” He tapped a button to display a series of charts that he’d prepared. “Here you can see that grimm activity has increased by an average of 14.6 percent over the last five years, accelerating as time goes on. But Atlas is rising to the challenge. We’ve nearly doubled android production, and several new models will be ready for mass production within the year. We’ve added six new capital ships to the air fleet and diverted nearly a billion lien into research and development. I am quite certain that when Salem attacks Atlas will be ready to protect not just our kingdom, but every kingdom.”

“If she attacks,” Ozpin said. “We cannot assume. This increase in grimm may be a diversion for something more subtle than outright invasion.”

“Oz is right,” Qrow said. “The kind of back-alley deals I’ve been tracking point to some sort of organized attack, and I think Mistral might be a prime target.”

Leo twitched nervously. “I don’t find that particularly likely. Certainly, Mistral has its share of problems… that nasty business between the White Fang and the Rajah family was troubling, for instance, but the Council has everything under control within the city proper.”

“You don’t have anything under control,” Theodore told him. “You lost the Maiden, remember? We have no idea where she is, and for all we know she could already be in enemy hands!”

“No,” Glynda said. “The movements of Salem’s known operatives in Mistral indicate that they’re still searching for her. If anything, that makes Mistral the least likely target. A successful strike against Haven Academy would be useless to her if she cannot open the vault.”

Ozpin nodded. “And what of the other Maidens?”

“The Winter Maiden is safely in Atlesian custody,” James told him. “Her physical condition is deteriorating, but not at a rate that’s unexpected for her age and as you know we’ve been preparing her successor.”

“And I’ve made certain that the Summer Maiden is out of reach as well,” Theodore said.

Qrow sighed. “Which leaves Autumn.”

Lionheart scoffed. “If anything Vale is her least likely target! The Vytal Festival is only a few months away, by the year’s end the entire kingdom will be swarming with huntsmen.”

“Which may be exactly what she wants,” Ozpin said. “Salem gains strength through division. What better way to divide us than to strike at a festival celebrating unity, in what would be the safest place in the world?”

“And Amber’s by far the most vulnerable maiden,” Qrow reminded them. “She’s inexperienced and unprotected. We can’t be too careful. I should check on her last known location, maybe I can reach her and convince her to come back to Beacon with me. It’d make things a lot easier if we had her under guard.”

“I can arrange a military escort to get you there,” James offered.

“Frankly, Jimmy, I’d rather risk the grimm while flying solo than be stuck in a ship with one of your lackeys for six hours.”

“Do you ever get tired of being difficult?” Qrow was a good man, and James trusted him, but he seemed to take pleasure in infuriating him.

Qrow took a swig of whiskey from his flask. “Once, but that might’ve just been the hangover.”

“Very well,” Ozpin said. “Qrow, make sure that Amber is safe. Leo, send a few huntsmen to investigate these leads. Everyone else will wait for your reports.” There was a lot of waiting with Ozpin. James had told him time and time again how dangerous it was to just sit back while enemies were on the move, but the old man was stubborn. James trusted him, but even so he knew that Ozpin’s judgement wasn’t always on the mark. No amount of sitting around and talking would stop Salem. They needed to act, and they needed to do it soon.

And of course there was his other problem. “Oz,” he said. “Can I speak to you alone for a minute?”

Ozpin nodded, and signaled for Glynda to leave him as the other screens winked out. “Is there a problem, James?”

“There might be,” he admitted. “A huntress working with one of my operatives has located Nerina Pontus. You may remember that she was our prior candidate—”

“I remember,” Ozpin said. His voice was as calm as ever, but there was an edge to it, as if he were judging James for something.

“Last night a huntress working for the military discovered that she is working for a woman named Dawn Lumina. Lumina is one of my political opponents, and I worry about her intentions. If Pontus tells her anything…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. If she told Lumina about the role James had been preparing her for, then centuries’ worth of secrets would come crumbling down.

Oz paused, steepling his fingers. “Did Miss Pontus know anything about your intentions for her before the… problems arose?”

“I never told her anything directly, but I worry she might have picked something up.” Pontus had been trained by some of his best officers, and some of them knew… well, not everything, but enough to cause serious problems if the information got out. James trusted their loyalty, but rumors had a way of spreading through even the most steadfast of ranks.

“In that case,” Oz said, “I don’t think there’s much to worry about on that front. While whatever she _does_ know might hinder your political prospects, third- or fourth-hand knowledgeof something this contrary to established knowledge is practically hearsay. It’ll just be a rumor, a fairy tale. She probably doesn’t even believe it herself.”

There was logic to that, certainly. But Oz was right about the other part as well: whatever she knew might end up seriously damaging his own authority and in doing so weaken Atlas’s chances against the enemy.

James tried to look reassured as he signed off, but as soon as the call was over he found himself pacing in front of his office window. Oz might have been willing to take this on faith, but he knew better. He needed to know what Pontus knew, and he needed it soon.

Her father might know, of course. Major Algernon Pontus was a loyal officer and James didn’t doubt that he’d give any information that he could. At the same time, he doubted the Major wouldn’t have already informed him of any details he knew involving his daughter’s… challenges. He’d need to find a way to get the information from her directly.

“Sir,” Charlotte called over the intercom, “Magnolia Xanthe is here… again. I told her you were busy but she claims it’s ‘important’.” She didn’t sound very convinced, but Charlotte seemed to think that anyone who even considered speaking to James was automatically suspicious. It was why he kept her around. Well, that and the Sanguine Affair.

“I’m finished,” he told her. “Send her in.”

Xanthe had, thankfully, gotten some sleep since their last debriefing. The dark circles around her eyes were gone, and she’d regained that focused, piercing look in her grey eyes that always made James just a little uncomfortable.“Sir,” she said, saluting hurriedly, “we’ve performed the inspection of the androids which you approved the last time we spoke. The results… well, you’re going to want to see this yourself.”

_Robyn_

Robyn sighed as she closed another document. She was beginning to regret not taking any science classes when she was at school. After a day of research she’d only found a few papers that she could actually understand.She half-suspected that academics made their writing impenetrable on purpose in order to scare away poor people. Still, what she had learned was only drawing her further in. She clicked and opened another paper. Thank the gods, it was written in terms that she actually understood.

_The primary cause of desertification was unusual in Vacuo’s case. While other instances of the phenomenon have been the result of unsustainable agricultural practices being allowed to go unchecked, in the case of Vacuo the degradation of the land was due to the direct and intentional drainage of the region’s primary water sources. It is often said that Vacuo was an oasis before its collapse; this statement is not quite correct. The region was actually covered by a large network of oases fed by a complex system of underground rivers; the oasis which the current city of Vacuo was built upon was simply the largest of over a dozen similar bodies of water. These oases, along with rainfall brought south by ocean winds, supplied the lush ecosystem with the water it needed to thrive._

_When it was discovered that Vacuo’s largest dust deposits were buried beneath the oases, the colonial powers decided that the only practical way to extract it was to drain the lakes. Using the semblances of hired mercenaries, they were able to trace the underground rivers to their source, redirecting them and depriving Vacuo of its water. Historical sources are unclear as to why the rain stopped as well; some ecologists believe that it had already begun to disappear several centuries prior to the oases’ destruction, due to Mantle’s industrial expansion shrinking the ice caps in Solitas and altering the patterns of sea winds. Others point to natural shifts in Remnant’s climate causing this change, or even a spectacular seismic event leading to the rise of the Nocturn Mountains by several hundred feet, blocking the sea winds from reaching Vacuo. This last hypothesis is extremely controversial but in recent years a few surprising pieces of evidence have caused a resurgence in its popularity..._

Well that was certainly intriguing. Robyn couldn’t imagine how such a disaster would have gone unrecorded, but records from that era were far from complete. In those days, it was common practice to purge official records when new dynasties rose to power; all the better to consign ones’ predecessors to the footnotes of history. The kings who enforced such practices never considered that their successors might do the same thing, of course. Men like that rarely could conceive that the world would continue when they were gone.

But that didn’t bring her any closer to the answers she was looking for. The note about Vacuo’s subterranean river system was far more promising; that was the kind of man-made problem that could be solved. Maybe Dawn had been wrong and the damage could be at least somewhat reversed.

A knock on the door made her start, but she calmed when she saw Fiona’s wide green eyes peek into the room. “Hey Robyn,” she said, “you’ve been locked up in this room for hours. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m okay,” Robyn assured her. “I’m just working on something.”

“Can you take a break? There’s a call for you.”

“Who’s it from?”

“It’s Moreno.”

Ah. Finn Moreno was the Happy Huntresses’ contact in the local chapter of the White Fang. She hadn’t heard much from him since he’d been promoted to Lieutenant to the leader of the local chapter of the White Fang, though she’d followed his monthly essays closely. If he’d found the need to reach to them it was probably important. Robyn stretched and pulled herself to her feet. “Alright, I’m coming.”

The bar was nearly empty, as was usual for this time of day. Joanna and May were playing poker with a couple of local huntsmen. “Look who’s decided to rejoin society,” May remarked. She looked over at Fiona. “Another one of her little projects?”

Fiona nodded, and May held out her hand. “Told you.” Joanna rolled her eyes but handed her a couple of wadded-up bills.

“Looks like the rest of you have been busy,” Robyn remarked.

Joanna shrugged. “It’s been a slow day.”

Fiona huffed. “Well I’ve been doing some recon, since _some_ people won’t let me play…”

“Fi, last time we let you play poker you drew _five_ aces.”

Fiona stuck out her tongue. “And you didn’t notice until fifteen minutes later.”

Robyn chuckled, but she knew that if she didn’t say something this could go on for another fifteen minutes. “As much as I’d love to continue this,” she said, “Fiona says I have a call.”

Joanna nodded. “He’s on the encrypted line.” 

She could hear wind on the other end as she opened the terminal. “Hey Finn,” she said. “Let me guess, you’re hanging out on the roof again?”

“Robyn,” he greeted her, “my location is not relevant right now.”

“You know,” she said, “it’s a lot nicer inside. You know you’re welcome here anytime.”

“I thought it might be wise not to be seen entering your establishment,” he said. “It might draw unwanted attention to your operations.”

He was right, of course. That was why they’d had the encrypted line installed to begin with. Robyn had never been one to turn down allies, no matter which side of the law they were on, but she knew that the Happy Huntresses were able to operate as they did because they didn’t openly break any laws themselves. In Atlas that wasn’t enough to avoid all attention, but it certainly helped. As such, she’d gotten the special terminal installed at the back of the hideout in order to communicate with those who were looked upon less favorably by the authorities without the calls being traced. While Finn rarely showed his face on the streets, he’d never tried to hide his association with the White Fang and Mantle’s police didn’t make much distinction between the methods used by individual branches of the organization. In their eyes, he was probably just as much of a threat as people like Adam Taurus, and if he’d shown up in person then they’d probably end up getting raided by armed cops. Again.

“How are things going in the Fang, anyway?”

“Complicated, as always. Damask’s attempts to mend the divide between High Leader Khan and the more traditional factions of the White Fang have not been as successful as we’d hoped,” he said, referring to the leader of the White Fang chapter in Mantle. “It feels like neither side wants to admit how much they have in common. And now Adam Taurus has suddenly come into the possession of a large quantity of dust. He claims that he obtained it from a recent raid on an SDC cargo train, but Damask has people inside the company and the manifest shows only around half as much dust onboard as what Taurus reported. I worry that he may be compromised, but of course the High Leader has always favored him, and refuses to consider the possibility.”

“You really think that it’s possible?” Robyn had grown to dislike Taurus from what her contacts in the White Fang had told her about him, but she’d never once heard him considered a possible traitor to the organization. If anything, what she’d heard painted him as overly zealous to the cause.

“It’s hard to say. He’s definitely lying about something. But that’s not why I’m here. In the past three weeks two of our hideouts have been raided, and everyone inside killed. We don’t think it was the police this time, or the military. Damask is worried about private mercenaries but I’m unconvinced. Robyn,” she could hear him cringe, “I saw the bodies. Whoever did this wasn’t in it for a paycheck. This was motivated by hate.”

Unfortunately, there were plenty of people who hated faunus enough to commit murder, but few would be brave enough to attack a full garrison of White Fang militiamen. She’d heard of certain religious sects—cults, really—who considered the extermination of the faunus to be a divine calling, but thankfully they’d never established themselves in Mantle, preferring to stick to the outskirts of the kingdoms where they could slaughter undefended villages without fear of reprisal. There was only one other group that could have done this. “You think it was Loyalists?”

“I do,” he said grimly.

Even eighty years later, not everyone in Mantle had accepted the outcome of the Great War. Many still whispered of treachery and injustice in the War’s conclusion, and while many such malcontents were harmless, others were decidedly not. These Loyalist gangs varied tremendously; the only things they all had in common were nationalistic pride and a contempt for Vale and Vacuo. Many of the more extreme gangs, however, took their bigotry a step further, blaming “faunus betrayal” for the kingdom’s defeat and the subsequent changes to global politics. It was the threat of gangs like these, along with growing rates of police violence, that had lead to Robyn’s uneasy alliance with the local White Fang chapter in the first place. That was why he’d come to her, then. It wasn’t a cry for help, it was a warning: If Finn was right, and a Loyalist gang had become organized enough to slaughter dozens of White Fang operatives, then Robyn and her Happy Huntresses, or the people under their protection, could very well be the next target.

No. Robyn wouldn’t let that happen. If these people really wanted a fight then she’d give them one, but it would be on her terms.

_Winter_

Winter and Iris had been halfway to the Central Police Precinct when the General had called them back. It was almost a relief, because they were running out of leads. Sterling and Cranston, the two technicians who’d been identified as suspects, were still in their custody, but they hardly seemed competent enough to be conspirators and Winter was fairly certain that the real reason they’d been AWOL during the attack had something to do with certain illicit substances. While consumption of narcotics, especially while on-duty, was a serious offense, it didn’t actually get them any closer to finding the killer. The only idea Winter had left was to search for the Councilman’s missing arm, which was barely a plan at all. Even Iris had pointed out that even if they did find it, the arm would likely have decomposed by now and any forensic evidence would be long gone. The General had said that he wanted to cross reference their findings with those of the Internal Affairs team, which hopefully meant that the other team had something meaningful to give them.

Dr. Polendina’s primary laboratory was located in Atlas Academy’s research and development sector, a labyrinthine series of hallways and labs beneath the campus which produced a significant portion of Atlas’s defense technology. As usual, Winter could count on her credentials to get her through the building’s security, but actually finding the correct room was going to be a challenge.

“I think,” Iris said, peering at the map, “that we need to go forward, then up, then sideways.”

“Sideways?”

“Yeah, ya know. To the side.”

“That’s not a direction, do we need to go left or right?”

“Hmm…” Iris tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Diagonally.”

Winter slapped her palm against her forehead. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Iris grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Forget it.” She had long since forgotten why she’d decided bringing Iris into this case was a good idea. “Soldier,” she barked at the nearest guard, “we need escort to Laboratory 1883!”

The man saluted and after about five minutes of walking in what seemed like an aimless circle he led them to the lab. It sat at the end of a long, wide hallway lined with benches, and to Winter’s surprise, a young woman with striking purple hair and decidedly unprofessional-looking clothing was sleeping on the furthest left bench as if she were some vagrant at a park. She assumed that the woman was allowed to be here, since the guard didn’t react to her presence, but Winter could tell that she was a civilian. What kind of people was Polendina working with?

Winder decided not to concern herself with the sleeping woman; the General had summoned them, which meant there were more pressing matters to attend to. The door was locked, of course, though the system was far less intricate than the one found at the CCT Tower. Winter tried scanning her hand, but the touchscreen flashed red.

“You’re Winter Schnee, right?” The sleeping woman rose and stretched, yawning loudly as she did so. “This is a top secret facility, so only lab staff and the General himself have access. Dr. Polendina told me to wait out here so I could let you in.”

“You were asleep on duty?” Winter couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “My partner and I have been called here by the General himself on urgent business!”

The purple-haired woman seemed unimpressed by Winter’s scolding. “I was just warming myself up,” she said, “there’s a heat vent under this bench and—” She stopped, and her gaze drifted past Winter and down the hall

Winter looked back and saw that Iris had not followed her to the door, but was hanging back around twenty feet away, looking uncharacteristically like she wanted to disappear. She waved meekly as the purple haired woman met her gaze. “Hi,” she managed.

“So,” the woman said, looking between Winter and Iris, “you replaced me already, then?”

Iris cast a confused glance at Winter. “What? Oh, no, no! Winter and I are just friends.”

“Associates,” Winter corrected.

“Pals,” Iris insisted. “Anyway, nothing going on between us whatsoever.”

What was she talking about? “Iris,” Winter said, “what is going on here?”

“Uh,” Iris stammered, “Winter Schnee, meet Wisteria Hawthorn. My… ex… girlfriend…”

Wisteria didn’t seem nearly as distressed as Iris was, and firmly shook Winter’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Er, likewise,” Winter managed. She tried desperately to think of a way to redirect the conversation from personal entanglements. “You don’t exactly look like a scientist.”

“Well that’s a relief, because I’m not. Just a huntress here for some steady work. One of the heads of this project is an old friend of mine, and they contacted me because they wanted to use my semblance as a model for… well that’s classified.” She placed her hand on the touch-pad and the door slid open.

The laboratory was busy. Winter counted nearly a dozen scientists working on various pieces of advanced machinery she was sure she couldn’t even begin to understand. A large device similar to an X-ray machine stood in the center of the room, some strange glowing spheres were suspended by gravity dust, and a glass tank held several species of rodents which chirped and sniffed at them as they entered. Winter’s attention, however, was immediately drawn to several pairs of linked chambers that looked eerily like coffins made of metal and glass.

“What is all of this?” she asked, grabbing Iris by the wrist to keep her from touching anything.

Wisteria shook her head. “Sorry, classified.” She yawned again, this time stretching her mouth far wider than any human being possibly could. Winter started back in shock, which earned a chuckle from the younger huntress. “Humans never get used to that,” she noted.

“You’re a faunus?” Winter looked her up and down, but Wisteria looked completely human.

“Not all of us have tails, ears, or horns,” Wisteria told her. “Sometimes it’s more subtle. Aside from my metabolism, the only thing snakelike about me is my jaw, which is both fun at parties and easy for most humans to overlook.”

Something bothered Winter about that, but she wasn’t sure what. Regardless, it came as quite a surprise to her, though she had to admit that her experience with faunus was limited. As a child, she’d only known them as servants, while her limited social circles at school had only ever really included humans. “So, faunus can have any animal trait?”

“For the most part,” Wisteria confirmed. “It’s most common to have something visible, but there are still a lot of faunus who can pass for human pretty easily, or even accidentally. I’ve even met faunus from mixed households who thought they were human for years because even the doctors didn’t notice whatever made them faunus. Venomous saliva, hollow bones, regeneration, that sort of thing.”

“Regeneration?” There was definitely something bothering her now, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Regrowing limbs and such. It’s really rare, since only reptiles and invertebrates can do it, and most faunus have mammalian traits.” She led them through another door and into another room. “And here we are.”

This room was smaller, largely consisting of a desk and a mechanical rig of some sort. Dr. Polendina and Magnolia Xanthe were looking closely at the desk’s computer screen, while General Ironwood and Nox Corwin stood back, watching. “Winter,” the General said, “I’m glad you could make it. I hope I didn’t call you at an inconvenient time.”

“No, sir. May I ask why we were summoned here?”

“We’ve made an unusual discovery.” The General gestured to Dr. Polendina. “Pietro?”

“Ah, yes,” Polendina said, gesturing to the screen. “A few days ago Specialist Xanthe approached me with a request to examine the code of a couple dozen androids which had been acting, shall we say, unusually at the time of Councilman Willows’ death. I’ve been rather busy with my other work, but last night I was finally able to take a look and, well, it’s worse than any of us suspected. These androids weren’t simply given false orders, their entire code has been replaced.”

How was that possible? Winter walked over to the desk and tried to make sense of what was happening on the screen. She had basic training in computers, of course, but the string of letters and symbols made no real sense to her. “What does it say?”

“That’s the other problem,” the doctor said, “I haven’t the slightest idea. I’m fluent in seventeen programming languages and invented two of them myself, but I’ve never seen code like this in my life.”

“We’ve spent the last several hours searching for anything that could decipher it,” Xanthe said. “It’s not any known programming language or even a cypher. By all logic these androids shouldn’t have been functional at all.”

Winter swore. “It feels like the more information we find, the further we are from understanding anything about this case.”

“We were hoping that the information from your investigations might shed some light,” Xanthe admitted.

“No,” Winter shook her head, “I understand this even less than you do.”

“Wait,” Iris said, peeking over Winter’s shoulder, “I think I’ve got it! That’s not code!”

Everyone stopped and stared at her. “This isn’t the time for jokes,” Winter told her.

“It’s not a joke, look!” She pointed at the letters on the screen. “The letters are A through G, and the other symbols are flats and sharps! This isn’t code, it’s music!”

“Iris,” Winter began, “that has to be the stupidest—”

“No,” Dr. Polendina said, “she’s right! It doesn’t make a bit of sense, but that’s definitely sheet music.”

“The sound,” Iris said. “All the witnesses heard a strange sound. They said it sounded like a whistle or a flute… What if that was some sort of musical trigger to make the androids change course?”

“You can’t just replace complex computer code with musical notes,” the General protested.

“And yet here it is, sir,” Xanthe said. “Right in front of our eyes.

Winter couldn’t believe this. What they were suggesting wasn’t just impossible, it was downright surreal. And yet… one witness had described the blackout that had occurred just before the Councilman was murdered as radiating out in a somewhat circular pattern… like sound waves. Was the best theory they could come up with really that some sort of phantom musician had turned their technology against them? Every piece of her training told her that they should eliminate something so impossible from their search before doing anything else, but here they were looking at something that was, well, impossible.

“Sir,” Winter said, “even assuming that this is somehow true, it doesn’t explain much of what Iris and I have discovered. The victim was killed by an unknown toxin and his blood was contaminated with that of a faunus. We believed that the poison must have come from the killer’s semblance, due to the complete lack of residual toxins at the wound, but the only candidate whose semblance even came close to matching that description was the wrong species and… dead…”

Wait. She thought back to what she and Iris had found when looking through LADON’s records. A bandit named Lerna Fen had been their best match, as his semblance made his own blood toxic and extremely corrosive, but the records had listed him as a human. What had Wisteria said? “I’ve met faunus from mixed households who thought they were human for years because even the doctors didn’t notice whatever made them faunus.” Was it possible that such a mistake had made its way into their records?

But Fen was dead. According to her followup research, a huntsman named Fenix Nemean had severed his head from his shoulders months ago. Surely no one could survive that… No human being, anyways. But Wisteria had also said that some faunus could regenerate lost body parts, hadn’t she? Regenerating from a full decapitation seemed far-fetched, and she didn’t know of any animal that could do something like that, but she was suddenly beginning regret eliminating him as a suspect so quickly. It was a long shot, practically absurd, but so was everything in front of her right now.

General Ironwood looked at her with concern. “Schnee? Are you alright?”

“I… One second, sir. I need to make an inquiry.” She pulled out her scroll and placed a call down to the Central Military Compound at Atlas’s base.

An operator picked up almost immediately. “Specialist Schnee,” he greeted, “what can we do for you?”

Winter wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries so she cut straight to the point. “I need you to run a search of the facial recognition system across the city. I’m looking for a man named Lerna Fen.”

“That’s the guy we saw in the records,” Iris recalled. “But he’s dead. Oh my gods is the killer a zombie!?”

Winter ignored her as she listened intently to the operator’s fingers clacking against his keyboard. “Lerna Fen,” he said, “is that ‘Fen’ with one ’N’ or two?”

“One,” Winter said. Everything seemed to stand still as her heart hammered in her chest. This was either going to make her look like a complete fool… or it might break open the entire case.

“Six matches from the last week,” the operator said. Winter suppressed a gasp. Fen was alive. More than that, he was in Atlas. “He seems to be avoiding the cameras,” he continued, though Winter was barely listening, “we can’t track his movements with any precision but we can verify…”

She placed the scroll down on the desk and looked back to General Ironwood. “Sir,” she said, “I think I’ve found the killer.”


End file.
